Past of Shadows
by ObsessivelyOdd
Summary: Bear has known Greg for about three months now - he works at his local pub. He's just a waiter. Pretty average really. But then... why do Wolf, Eagle and Snake all seem to know him?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: And I'm starting another story. I know, I know. I still have From Failing Hands to update. I'm going to update that after this. I've just... well this story has been speaking to me and I now have about twenty two chapters. Anyway, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Too tired to come with something more original.

***

_Alex groaned. His head was killing him and his throat was burning. He needed water. His eyelids fluttered then closed again as dizziness overcame him._

_An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and lifted something to his lips. _

"_Drink," said a voice, as a hand came around and lifted his chin._

_Alex gulped at the water gratefully. It was cold and sweet and slipped effortlessly down his throat._

_The cup was taken away again, and he slept._

_***_

Wolf placed the drinks on the table and sat down, relieved to finally be able to relax. He and his team had just got back from three weeks training and had decided to go out for a drink to celebrate their safe return from hell. They were in Bear's local pub as it had, by universal agreement, the best beer, along with a friendly atmosphere and the apparently compulsory slightly sticky wooden tables.

There was a moment's silence as the four soldiers relished the taste of their pints. This, they felt, was civilisation. No wonder Beacons didn't allow it.

"Surprised you could join us, Eagle," commented Bear after a moment. "I would've thought that Rachel would have wanted you back as soon as."

Eagle shrugged. "Her sister's getting married. She's been dragged off to Vegas for a hen do. She won't be back for a couple of days at least."

"Vegas?" smirked Bear. "Sure you trust her not to pick up some stripper in a bar and get married by Elvis?"

"At least I've got a girlfriend," retorted Eagle, "The rest of you are pathetically single."

"If you can count Wolf as single with all those instant dates of his," said Bear with a wry grin. Wolf rolled his eyes and thumped his team mate as Eagle snorted.

Snake, however, hadn't responded to his team mates gentle ribbing and simply sat staring at the bar, a faint frown marring his brow.

"Hey, Snake," said Eagle, "is something wrong?"

Snake started and shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just..."

"Just what?" asked Wolf, slightly concerned.

"It's just... does that waiter look at all... _familiar_ to you?"

Bear glanced around. "Oh, the blond one? That's Greg. He's been working here for about three months now."

"No, Wolf, Eagle, look at him!"

Wolf turned to look at the boy Snake was staring at, just as he heard an intake of breath from Eagle.

"Is that... _Cub?_"

"Cub?" asked Bear, confused. "As in that kid you told me about? The one who's daddy sent him to the SAS camp?"

Wolf grimaced at the misassumption. Gods, had he never told them? No, he hadn't. The entire team on the mission had been told that to mention that Cub was there was to lose their jobs.

He should have told them anyway.

The waiter did look a hell of a lot like Cub, but it couldn't be. Cub's name had been A- something, hadn't it? Alan or Ali or something... Jesus, how could he have forgotten the kid's name?

Greg was looking slightly unnerved now and he kept glancing at them suspiciously. Wolf suddenly realised that they had been staring at him for a good few minutes.

Hurriedly, he coughed and looked down at the table, but Greg was already on his way over.

"Friends of yours, Nick?" he asked Bear, picking up their now-empty glasses.

The voice was different from how Wolf remembered, deeper and somehow more weary. But then, it had been about two years since he had seen Cub last.

"Yeah," said Bear with a welcoming grin. "This is the rest of my unit."

"Oh, yeah. You're in the army, right?"

"Cub?" said Snake cautiously, as if the boy was a wild animal about to bolt.

Greg looked at him blankly.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, obviously confused.

Snake frowned and didn't reply. Greg shrugged slightly, and turned to Bear.

"You want another round?"

***

The first thing Wolf did when he go home was call Fox. He had managed to convince himself that it had been Cub, despite the name. He looked almost identical and sounded so similar it could only be aging that changed it. But there had been no recognition in his eyes, no sign that he had ever met any of them before.

Wolf dialled the number and waited until his former teammate answered.

"Hello?" came the familiar voice. He sounded sleepy and Wolf suddenly realised it was close to midnight.

"Hey Fox, it's Wolf. Sorry about the hour."

There was the sound of a yawn being half-heartedly stifled on the other end.

"No problem," said Fox. "I'd have been waking up in a couple of hours anyway. Jet lag's a bitch."

Wolf winced. "Sorry. When did you get back?"

"Tonight... well, this afternoon really."

"And you can't tell me where you've been?" guessed Wolf, wryly.

"Nope, sorry mate."

Wolf smiled. Fox really must be tired to let that go without some sarky comment.

"So why are you calling at this god forsaken hour?" asked Fox.

"What?" asked Wolf, trying to sound offended. "I can't just call to chat?"

There was a snort on the end of the line. "Wolf," said Fox, patiently. "You don't 'just call to chat'. I've known you for forever and have never known you to 'chat' at all!"

"Ok, so there was a reason," admitted Wolf.

"Oh?"

"I was just wondering if you've heard anything about Cub recently. I know he works over there with you lot."

There was a pause before Fox spoke, his voice low and full of pain. "The last time I heard anything about Cub, was six months ago... at his funeral."

***

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ok, so here is chapter 2. I'm sorry to those people who reviewed and I didn't reply to – I tried, but it's not been long since I posted and I thought you'd like to read this. And for those reading Perfectly Normal – I'm sorry, it's not going to be updated today. I'm working on an interlude at Brecon Beacons with Tom and the rest of the class and Fox and I want it to be the next chapter posted. So even though all the Alex-related ones have been posted, I'm adding to it. Any ideas for the interlude, PM me!

Oh, and a note on why this story is rated M. It is not graphic, but it has Slash, mental instability, non-con, dub-con, underage sex, violence, abuse, brainwashing (or something similar at least), inappropriate career choices and non-con-drug-abuse. I'll highlight which ones are present in each chapter a the start, just so you know. In this one... alcohol abuse, I guess.

DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill – nothing belongs to me.

_***_

_This time, he managed to open his eyes, but the room was dark. His head was hanging down and it slowly filtered down to his fog-filled brain that he was tied to the metal chair he was sitting on. Tied very securely._

_His elbows and wrists were attached to the chair by what felt like heavy plastic ties – the kind that wouldn't snap, wouldn't loosen and had to be cut off. If it had been handcuffs, he could probably have picked them. If it had been ropes, he could have untied them. But with these, he was stuck. It only took him a second more to realise that, while his feet weren't attached by the plastic ties, they were cuffed by the ankles and each chained to the closest leg. On top of this there was what he assumed to be a large leather belt pulled tight around his hips and apparently fastened behind the seat back._

_Had he been tied up last time he woke? He couldn't remember._

_Slowly he lifted his head and cricked his neck to loosen the stiff ache from having his head hanging as a dead weight._

_How did he get here again? He could remember something... he had been looking for something... but he couldn't remember what. And a lot of his memories were like that now anyway - he'd been a spy for two years now and in that time had done pretty much everything – but this one seemed recent._

_Unfortunately it was weak, nothing more than a vague impression. He couldn't remember if that was the last thing that had happened or something a week or more beforehand._

_Suddenly there was a voice from somewhere in the darkness._

"_So you're awake, then."_

_The voice was cold. It was deep and, he had to admit, fairly attractive. But that wasn't saying anything. Alex had met psychopaths with voices to make you swoon. There was no accent that Alex could detect and yet, he thought he recognised it. But that was ridiculous._

_It wasn't unknown for captives to attempt to find something familiar about their captors. Apparently, it made them human and therefore, more likely to empathize with the captive. It was probably just that._

_A light snapped on, illuminating Alex in a ring of light, leaving the rest of the room dark. Alex blinked his eyes furiously against the sudden flood of light. After he adjusted, he looked around, but his jailor was still hidden in the shadows._

"_Why am I still alive?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse. He was a captive, so the man who held him was obviously his enemy. And the few of Alex's enemies who were alive all wanted him dead._

"_Many of my... associates would pay good money to see you dead."_

"_That doesn't answer my question."_

"_What if I were to say you were only alive so that I could kill you slowly?"_

_Alex tried to shrug, but with his restraints it came out more like a shoulder twitch. "I've been tortured before."_

_It was all bravado. He had been tortured before, it went with the job, but he could feel his heart rate increase and the sweat bead icily on his forehead as panic pulsed through his veins._

_Somewhere behind him, his captor issued a sigh. "You really are an agent, through and through."_

_Alex remained silent._

"_Goodnight, Alex."_

_The light snapped out. Somewhere behind him, a metal door clanged closed. Alex was left alone._

_***_

Wolf had no idea why he was back here. There were other pubs closer certainly and there was nothing all that special about here. It had started with a desperate need to get out, a hasty retreat into the elements. He had walked and walked and somehow ended up outside Bear's local again and, from a loss of what else to do, slipped inside.

Greg was still there, rubbing salt in Wolf's wounds simply by his presence, but the glass of whisky he was handed went a long way to solving that. The second went even further. He quickly drained the glass again and waited patiently as Greg refilled it.

"Something the matter?" the blond asked.

Wolf nodded silently.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," he grumbled, letting his head sink onto his arms, but somehow he found words spilling out of him anyway. "I... well, there was this kid... great kid, hero, really. He's dead. Died six months ago and... I only just found out... Jesus... I said I'd keep him alive! I swore to myself in France that if I couldn't get him out, I'd at least keep him alive!"

Greg sighed. "I'll just leave the bottle, shall I?"

***

Wolf woke up in a black mood. His head was pounding and he thought his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.

How much had he had to drink last night?? He thought that Greg had taken the second bottle away from him eventually, but he had no idea how he had got home. A noise by the door caught his attention and he quickly turned his head. He groaned as the room span, but managed to pull himself into a sitting position to greet the opening door.

Greg walked through, holding a tray.

Wolf froze slightly, glancing from Greg to his bare chest then back to Greg.

"Oh God," he said in horror, "we didn't..."

Greg's eyes widened slightly and his mouth tensed as if he was trying to suppress a grin.

"No," he said. "We didn't. If you move the blanket slightly, you'll discover that you _have_ still got your boxers on."

"Oh, thank god!" exclaimed Wolf then paused. "Not that you're not... erm... attractive," he added hurriedly "I mean if you were... or I mean, if I... erm..."

Greg was laughing outright now.

Wolf decided to try again, though he was pretty sure he was just digging himself in deeper.

"It's just that-"

"It's just that you don't want to think that you had sex with someone you only just met while absolutely wasted... even if they are devilishly attractive," interrupted Greg, jokingly.

"Right," said Wolf, relieved.

"What, even the devilishly attractive part?" smirked Greg.

"What? No! I mean... yes... err..."

Wolf groaned as he saw Greg start laughing again.

"Stop that will you?" he snapped, "It's bloody irritating!"

He was pleased to realise that he had now completely separated Greg from Cub, in his mind. They may have looked and sounded remarkably similar, but they acted completely differently. Cub would never have joked around like that with Wolf.

_Not that you ever gave him the chance_, whispered a treacherous voice in the back of his mind.

Wolf lowered his head slightly in guilt. He wished he had treated Cub better at Brecon Beacons; so he had taken bullets for the kid, but that wouldn't have been necessary if Wolf hadn't been used to manipulate him in the first place. Really, it was disgraceful that neither of them had realised what was happening until afterwards.

"And anyway," said Greg, placing the tray of coffee, toast, orange juice and – _thank god –_ pain killers on the bedside table, "I would hate to take advantage of you – you might kill me the next morning!"

Wolf chuckled at the exaggeration, reaching for painkillers and coffee. It was his favourite hangover cure, no matter how Snake lectured about dehydration and vitamin deficiency. And anyway, Snake always reached for the aspirin as well.

"Thanks," he grunted as he finished off the coffee. It had been exactly how he liked it: strong, black and as bitter as hell.

"Not to seem rude or anything," he said around a mouthful of toast, "but if you didn't sleep with me, why are you here?"

Greg flushed slightly at the unintentional insinuation, but was smart enough to ignore it, realising Wolf was just curious.

"I felt guilty about leaving a semi-comatosed man to fend for himself when he was just trying to drown his sorrows."

Now it was Wolf's turn to flush.

"It's not like it's something I make a habit of," he grumbled.

"I hope you don't mind that I crashed on your sofa for the night, I was worried about you."

"Not a problem," said Wolf, now gulping down the last of the orange juice and actually feeling human again. Maybe there was something to all that talk of vitamins.

"If you want to borrow my phone and call your parents or anything, feel free," he said. "They must be worried about you."

"They won't be. I don't live with them."

"Oh, ok," said Wolf, trying to figure out what to say next. Suddenly Greg seemed cold and slightly angry. Fortunately for Wolf, the conversation was interrupted by Greg's phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the ID.

"Sorry," he sighed, "I've got to take this."

He left the room. Wolf hurriedly dressed and slipped out into the hall after him. He could hear Greg talking, the anger and frustration plain in his voice.

"Yes, I know I missed it... why?! Because they're not working! All you want me to do is sit there while you list all the things that are wrong with me when we both know that the only fucking problem is one that you can't fix!"

Wolf wondered what the 'problem' was, but guessed that Greg wouldn't say – who would?

Greg was speaking again. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, sullenly.

Slowly, Wolf walked into the living room.

"You, err, want some breakfast?" he asked.

"Love to, can't," said Greg, scowling. "I've got a doctor's appointment."

_So that was what he missed_, mused Wolf.

"That sucks," he commiserated. "Anything important?"

"Nah, just a check up," said Greg, waving away Wolf's concern.

_Just a check up, my arse_, thought Wolf.

Out loud, he said, "Ok, you want a lift?"

Briefly, he wondered why he was being so _nice_, but he guessed that Greg had seen him home the night before. If he hadn't, Wolf would probably have woken up on the street or in a police station. Taking Greg to the doctor's was the least he could do.

"Nah, it's ok," replied Greg. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll take the tube."

It only took five minutes after Greg had left for the truth to hit home, again.

Cub was dead.

***

A/N: Read and Review. Feed the hungry author!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh my god, I can't believe it! We have SNOW! As in proper have-a-snowball-fight, build-a-snowman SNOW! In ENGLAND! I can't believe it!**

**Sorry, minor spaz out of the way. Onto the rest of the A/N.**

**Ok, new plan for updating. I will update this story every Tuesday. Why Tuesday, you ask? Well, that's really quite simple... It's Tuesday today. And I'm updating today. And I'll update a week from today, and a week from then and so on. I'm sure you get the idea, unless you're a complete idiot – I'll update every Tuesday.**

**Sorry, I think I might have belaboured that a bit.**

**Oh, and Merry Christmas in case I don't update before then.**

**Anyway, onto the story...**

**DISCLAIMER: As usual, I own nothing.**

**_Edit: Oops, I forgot the warnings! Here you go. Warnings for this chapter... inappropriate career choices. Wow, mild chapter, huh?_**

***

_It was the thirst that woke him again, the thirst and a strange, alien pain in his arm that left him gasping._

_He gritted his teeth against the surging pain, trying to silence the desperate moans that escaped through his teeth. _

"_It hurts, doesn't it?" asked the voice._

"_What have you done?" he snarled._

"_Me? Nothing. You did it to yourself. Playing spy."_

"_Playing spy?" repeated Alex, mockingly. "Maybe you haven't heard... I've never failed a mission."_

_There was a low laugh behind him. "I had heard rumours. Most of the criminal world thinks you are a myth you know? A teenager with the luck of the devil, looks of an angel and the tongue of a demon sent to flay the flesh from their backs with words alone. Oh... and more skill than anyone has a right to possess."_

_Alex was silent._

"_And yet somehow I fear you stopped being a teenager sometime in your fourteenth year," said the voice, almost regretfully._

"_I don't understand your meaning."_

_There was a low, humourless laugh behind him. "You understand, Alex... How much have you sacrificed for your country?"_

_Alex didn't answer._

"_Tell me, was it worth it?"_

_Still, Alex remained silent._

"_No family, no friends, no-one who cares about you or who you can trust. No reason to fight except the fight itself. No reason to stay with MI6... but no reason to leave either."_

"_I have a reason to stay," said Alex._

"_Oh?"_

"_To stop psychopaths like you," he spat._

_Something hit him on the cheek in the dark, and Alex tasted blood in his mouth._

_There was a pause, then Alex spoke, the words hesitant and unsure._

"_I would have died... if I had not fought."_

_Now it was the captor's turn to be silent._

"_Why did you start?" he asked eventually._

"_Why do you ask?" retorted Alex angrily._

_Another sigh. The still-unseen door closed and Alex was alone._

_***_

Greg got home about three hours later. His appointment had been hell. Dr Farroway had called him out for trying to skive it, first of all, saying it showed a reluctance, or possibly even a fear, of remembering who he had been before the accident. Greg was just fed up of being forced to try the same stupid things over and over and over again. He had four months of memory and no clue as to who he had been beforehand, except for more scars than anyone had a right to live through.

Four months ago, Greg had woken up in hospital in Liverpool. No-one there knew who he was. No-one had come forward to claim him. No-one had reported a teenager fitting his description missing. He was completely alone, with a thousand things about himself he didn't understand. Why he could beat the crap out of anyone who attacked him. Why he could speak multiple languages, even though he didn't know how he learnt. Why he looked as if someone had tried to kill him, slowly.

And why those three soldiers thought they knew him.

Greg shook his head to clear it and sank down on the dilapidated sofa.

His house wasn't... well, it wasn't really a house to start with. It was a flat. Two rooms plus a bathroom. He shared it with one other person, a boy about his age called Yuri. With vibrant black hair, sparkling black eyes and a dark tan above flashing white teeth, Yuri was distinctive, to say the least. Despite everything he had been through, and his life had definitely not been easy, he was always smiling, laughing. He always had some joke to tell, or a wild story to spin. He was convincing with all of them, though the story of his background had seemed to change every week. He could be anything from the illegitimate son of a movie star to the final descendant of an exiled European king.

It had taken a month and a bottle of vodka to get the truth out of him.

Both of them, depressed and as drunk as hell in an alleyway. Greg without a past at all, and Yuri with one he was ashamed of. His mother: a whore; his father: unknown - just one of many clients. His mother had abandoned him to the streets aged eight and he had copied the only example he had ever known, making his way by charming those in need of company, sex when he got older. No birth certificate, no surname, no legal identity.

Three things they both lacked. Greg didn't even know what his real name was – the nurses had just started calling him Greg because they had no idea who he was and he had been muttering feverishly about a 'Greg' when they brought him in.

After that night they had started looking out for each other, half a month later getting this place together, the only place they could get without some sort of identification, which neither of them had.

Yuri had the bedroom, for obvious reasons. Greg had curtained off an alcove of the living room where he kept his few changes of clothes and a mattress to sleep on. It wasn't too bad. It beat sneaking into an empty building for the night, for sure. It was the best he could remember having.

Yuri's shoes were by the door. He was in and, for once, alone. Greg knocked on his door.

A moment later a messy-haired Yuri opened the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Hey," he said.

"Late night?" asked Greg.

Yuri nodded, "Yeah... hey, hang on a minute, will you?"

He disappeared into the gloomy room and returned with a wad of cash.

"Here's my half of the rent."

Greg took it. "Thanks," he said.

"You doing ok for your half?" asked Yuri, concernedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing fine," said Greg, flushing slightly.

He wasn't doing fine. His tips last night had gone on a taxi to get that soldier home. He had felt as if he owed the guy for something, though he had no idea what.

Yuri sighed. "How much are you short?"

"About thirty quid," admitted Greg. "I'll pick it up tonight and tomorrow in tips, easily."

Yuri still looked slightly worried. "Just, come home, ok? Don't do anything stupid. Sleeping around is my job!"

Greg rolled his eyes. Despite _his_ job, Yuri was insistent that Greg remained relatively innocent. So far, Greg hadn't been that desperate for the money, though occasionally it had been a close run thing – their landlord wasn't exactly forgiving. Greg thought he was some kind of drug dealer, or something equally shady, but didn't want to get involved enough to find out.

"Speaking of coming home..." said Yuri, "Where were you last night?"

Greg shrugged. "This guy got paralytic, so I saw him home."

Yuri grinned. "Was he cute?"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! Just because I made sure the guy didn't pass out on the streets doesn't mean I was checking him out!"

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "So that's a yes, then?"

Greg scowled. "Ok, so yes he was, as it happened, but that wasn't why I helped him!"

"What did he looked like?"

"Taller than me, dark hair, dark eyes, slightly Hispanic looking. Military."

Yuri huffed. "Ok, I believe you. It's too factual for you to have done anything. I guess that's why you sounded so put out when you came in."

"I sounded put out?" said Greg, confused.

"You were muttering to yourself," grinned Yuri.

"I had a doctor's appointment this morning," Greg admitted, reluctantly.

"Ah," said Yuri, suddenly understanding. "Farroway's still giving you a hard time?"

"You'd think I was a stubborn five year old!" the blond exploded, angrily. "So what if I tried to skive an appointment – one single appointment! – you'd think the sky had fallen from the way he acted! So what if I don't want to spend hour after hour trying to remember something when it is bloody obvious that it's not going to happen? I'm just fed up of wasting my time!"

Yuri sighed. It was always like this when Greg came back from there. He wished there was something he could do to calm the young man down, but there was nothing. At least he knew how not to make it worse by now. Once – and he winced at the memory – he had suggested that maybe Farroway had a point.

Until that day, Yuri had thought he was good in a fight and could hold his own against pretty much anybody. Greg had proved him wrong – he hadn't sat straight for a week!

But today, his anger felt shallower, a mask for something underneath. There was a slight tremor to Greg's voice, a slightly lost look in his eyes, that made it seem he was about to completely break down.

Yuri really wanted to get out of there – he couldn't deal with that kind of emotion – but this was Greg, the guy who had been watching his back constantly for the last three and a half months, the guy who had saved his arse more times than he could count, the guy who had distracted and misled the cops so Yuri could get away, even though the blond had had nothing to do with the crime.

Sighing, he sat down on the sofa, having to wait only a moment for Greg to collapse beside him, staring blankly at the wall.

"I just..." Greg sighed. "I don't know if I'm more scared that I won't remember or that I will. I mean... what must I have _been?_ I'm covered in scars. No one is looking for me, which means no friends, no family. Nothing. I... What if it's something really bad? What if it's something I'm better off _not_ knowing?"

Yuri looked at him for a moment, his lips drawn up in a small, sad smile.

"I know it wasn't anything bad, Greg. You have a noble streak a mile wide. It pulls you into more trouble than it's worth – I swear – but it would never allow you to do anything morally wrong."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Greg, quietly, doubt obvious in his eyes.

It only took a moment for Yuri to answer, looking straight into Greg's troubled brown eyes.

"One hundred percent."

***

**AN: Ok, so what did you think? If you review and tell me, you might get another update as a Christmas present**!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, half eight on Tuesday morning and I'm already updating. For once I don't need excuses! Yay! I'm sorry I didn't update on Christmas Day. I was planning to... but my fiancé stole my laptop for the day. Grrr. Anyway, thank you for all the wonderful reviews. This chapter is slightly light on Greg, but we have a lot of him next chapter, so don't worry. Now on to the Chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Mine.**

***

_He didn't know how much later it was but, when the man came back, he had figured out what was happening to his arm. He had some unfelt wound there. It had become infected. Without treatment, he could contract blood poisoning and die._

_The light was flicked on again and the man came to stand behind him. For the first time, Alex saw a sign that he was more than a recording – his shadow. He was tall and athletically built, but Alex could guess no more._

"_Here," said the voice. "Drink."_

_A hand, fair skinned and elegant, held out a sealed bottle of water._

_Alex didn't move. He couldn't._

"_Do not be stupid, Alex. It is sealed. You can see it is sealed. It is not poisoned."_

"_I'm tied to a chair. Exactly what do you expect me to do?" said Alex, acidly._

_There was a slightly surprised grunt. The hand withdrew for a second, then the bottle reappeared, opened. It was held to his lips and Alex felt the clean water trickle down his throat. He gulped at it greedily._

_When the bottle was eventually removed, almost empty, Alex spoke again._

"_Why am I still alive?" he asked. _

"_Because I haven't killed you yet," said the man._

"_You said you were going to torture me to death."_

"_Did I?" asked the man. Alex could almost hear the smirk in his voice and frowned._

_Had he? No, he hadn't. He had asked _what if_ he said he was going to do that._

_He felt something prick his arm and tensed, pulling futilely against his bonds._

"_Relax," ordered the voice. "It is just antibiotics. You will die without them."_

"_What do you want?" asked Alex, angrily._

_The answer came a few moments later, followed immediately by the now familiar clanging of the door._

"_To know you."_

_***_

That night, Greg tossed and turned, his dreams haunted by strange images. People he didn't know in places he couldn't have been. Soldiers asking _his _opinion. Bad guys- he knew they were bad, something to do with the threats and weapons and general violence surrounding them – looking at him with hatred and contempt, contempt that changed rapidly to disbelief and fear.

And blood. Everywhere blood. Blood and pain and violence, all centred on him.

He woke up, shaking and sweating and nauseous, to the darkness of early morning. The red light of the cheap alarm clock told him it wasn't even 4AM yet, but somehow he knew – a weary knowledge that seemed bone deep – that he wouldn't get back to sleep. Sighing, he levered himself up off his makeshift bed and went to take a shower. Maybe washing the sweat of himself would make him feel better.

He entered work for the lunchtime shift with bags under his eyes and straining not to yawn. He wasn't surprised to see Nick there. The man couldn't cook to save his life and so ended up here almost every mealtime when he was off duty. He nodded to the man as he slipped on his requisite black apron and received a brief nod in return. Briefly, he wondered how Nick's team were – even if they had creeped him out a little at first, Wolf at least seemed nice – but his attention was quickly absorbed by the many tasks he was responsible for that day. Tired as he was, they took all his concentration.

***

Bear sighed and hung up his phone, nodding briefly in response to Greg's silent greeting. It had been Snake. He was worried about Wolf. Apparently he had gone over to the man's after their celebratory drink, thinking Wolf might still have his phone – obviously he didn't as Snake had now found it – but Wolf hadn't been there.

Wolf had been planning to go home and figure out the mystery of Greg, all three of them had realised that much, but since then the man had dropped off the map. Snake didn't know if Wolf had vanished or was simply ignoring them, but neither seemed to be good news.

Bear tried to calm the man - after all, their glorious leader was probably sick of the sight of them and it had only been a few days – but it was difficult when Bear was just as worried. As much as they might try to ignore the fact now, Wolf _never_ disappeared. He _never_ ignored his unit. He acted as their leader on or off duty, if they needed it, and he couldn't do that if they couldn't get in touch with him.

Sighing, Bear finished his drink and stood. He was meeting Eagle and Snake outside Wolf's apartment in ten minutes and it would take all of that to get there, even in good traffic. He looked at his watch and sighed. He was going to be late.

Snake and Eagle were already there when he ran up the last flight of stairs, on time, if barely.

"No answer?" he grunted, not waiting for their head shakes to confirm his suspicions.

"Do we break in?" he asked.

"Give him one more chance to answer," said Snake, ever the voice of reason.

Bear started forward and hammered on the door.

"Wolf? Wolf?! If you're in there, open up before we have to kick down the door!"

They waited, but only heard silence.

Bear sighed, and stepped back from the door. He had actually begun shifting his weight, preparing to kick, when the door opened.

Wolf stood there. He looked awful, and was quite plainly drunk.

"Can't a man drink in peace around here?" he snarled.

Snake sighed and pushed past him, completely ignoring the anger in his leader's harsh words.

Eagle and Bear followed closely behind.

"What happened?" asked Snake bluntly.

Wolf looked at him for a moment, patently confused, before his face paled and he strode quickly towards the sofa, grabbing a bottle from beside it and gulping down the clear amber liquid, before sinking into the sofa.

Bear and Snake exchanged a look. Wolf hated whisky. He'd rather drink _anything_ else, if given the option.

Eagle sighed and pulled out his phone. Only Fox could deal with Wolf when something pushed him to drink excessively. Eagle and Snake had only seen him like this once before, and Bear never, but Fox had been in the army with Wolf, both accepted to the SAS at the same time, Fox having joined the army aged sixteen, a year after Wolf. Rivalry had become friendly competition which itself had become friendship. Fox knew Wolf probably better than his own parents. If anyone could snap him out of it, it was him.

Twenty minutes later, Fox entered the flat. Snake and Eagle sat on either side of Wolf, with Bear sitting across from them on the chair. Wolf hadn't spoken a word, but at least they had managed to get the whisky off him and replace it with a bottle of water.

Fox frowned at Wolf.

"James," he snapped, "Snap out of it. You're being ridiculous."

Wolf didn't even respond. Fox snarled irritably and pulled a bowl out of the cupboard. He filled it with water and dumped it over the almost comatosed Wolf. When he still didn't move, Fox frowned.

His next step was to get a glass of water and dissolve a tablespoon or two of salt in it.

"Drink it," he said, and started to gently encourage Wolf to drink.

Snake, realising what Fox was doing, fetched a large plastic bowl.

Soon Wolf was throwing up, ridding himself of the alcohol not already in his blood stream. Next, Fox shoved him in the shower and told Snake to keep an eye on him while he cooked his friend some food. If he knew Wolf, he had probably not had a decent meal since he heard the news.

When Snake eventually pulled Wolf out of the shower, Fox had a large plate of pasta with cheese sauce on the table. Not exactly nutritious, he knew, but one of the few things he could make out of what Wolf had in his woefully stocked fridge. The salad on the side and the large glass of orange juice added some semblance of balance to the meal, but Fox knew that the salad at least would be ignored unless he insisted that Wolf ate it.

Fifteen minutes later, Wolf had gained some semblance of sobriety and Fox sat sombrely next to him.

"I would have told you sooner," he said, eventually, "if I had known you hadn't been told. I just... presumed..."

There was a short pause.

"I'm sorry, mate."

"He shouldn't have died," said Wolf, hoarsely. "He shouldn't have trained with us; he should never have been involved with them at all."

There was no anger, anymore. It was a simple statement of fact.

"He was just a kid," said Wolf, his voice almost breaking.

Snake and Eagle, both who had been listening in confusion, went white and quickly moved away.

When Fox had finally got Wolf to bed, with help from Bear, they sat him down and stared at him.

"Cub's dead, isn't he?" said Eagle.

Fox nodded.

Bear looked around nervously. He had never known Cub and really didn't want to be here for this.

"I'm going to go. I'll see you all soon, ok?"

They didn't even glance at him as he left.

"How?" asked Snake, slightly disbelievingly.

Fox shrugged. "He just... disappeared. He had just completed a mission. The retrieval team actually saw him at the rendezvous, but by the time they got there, he had vanished."

"Wait... mission?!" exclaimed Eagle, his eyes going wide. "You mean he was actually at Beacons because he _needed_ training?"

Again, Fox nodded.

"But... he's just a kid!" exclaimed Snake, angrily. "How could they...?"

"Necessity makes bastards of us all," said Fox wearily. "You know the depressing thing? The kid was good, really good. He had me beat hands down. And he was jumpy at the end of that mission. Something had shaken him. He thought he was being followed, but couldn't catch so much of a glimpse of the guy. He had no idea who it was as he had taken down his latest enemy entirely. Nothing – literally – remained. And MI6 didn't listen. They never did - to him, at least. After everything he did, they didn't listen and now he's dead."

"When?" asked Eagle.

"Eight months ago. They searched, hard. They wanted their best agent back, after all, but they couldn't find him. He was declared legally dead six months ago and they held his funeral. No questions were asked. The official story was that he had just vanished from home one day."

"And Wolf found out..."

"The day before yesterday," said Fox. "I would have told him... I just thought he already knew..."

"No one blames you, Fox," said Snake numbly.

Eagle sighed. "I just... can't believe it. I can't believe we thought he was a joke. I can't believe..."

"I know. Believe me, I know."

***

**A/N: Please review, I always like to know what you think! Oh, and a bit of an explanation on SAS. A lot of the time, people have the entire of K-Unit at Point Blanc, but Horowitz never mentions any except Wolf being there... so my theory is they train together, but the higher ups pick the soldiers as individuals for missions based on their specialities... or that's what I'm using for this story. That ok with everyone?**

**Hope you all had good Christmas Days and have a fantastic New Year!**

**Oh... and to the reviewer "Yassen Gregorovich" – Thank you. Your review was well, and originally, written. It made me laugh. BUT, you didn't give me a way to reply to you. This may be because you aren't a member, but you didn't even leave me a real name so I'm slightly disappointed. If I could reply to you, I would say that I'm sorry, but Yassen is an antagonist in **_**every book he is in**_**. He's an assassin, not a nice guy, no matter what we all wish.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I'm glad you like the story. If you like the chapter, or even if you don't, review!**

**Oh, and can I take the opportunity to advertise the Reviews with Meaning discussion forum, based around, rather obviously, leaving good reviews, replying to reviews and trying to reduce the number of one or two word reviews. Basically, we have a wall of fame and 'How to leave reviews with meaning'. So if you all leave nice long, meaningful reviews, not just on here, but on other peoples stories and if you get yourself nominated, your name will go up there and everyone can thank you! (Ok we're working on the prestige, we swear. But wouldn't it be nice to get rid of "update" or "update please" or "Update soon"? It's nice to know that people like the story, but **_**why**_** do they like it? What could be improved? What is their favourite? Is it getting familiar to another story?)**

**Anyway... after that massively long AN... Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, enjoy the holiday... and REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Nothing changed in the endless dark. He could see nothing, no matter what. He never heard his captor enter, only leave. He didn't make a sound as he moved. There seemed to be no distinguishable features about him, except his voice._

_Alex was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that every day he began to find the voice more and more attractive. The deep, confident, masculine tones sent shivers down his spine. What was worse, was the suspicion that his captor knew the affect he had. He had certainly started speaking more, recently, though not about anything in particular._

_Sometimes they would discuss politics or culture or some other high-ball topic that Alex usually never had the time or patience for. But here he had nothing but patience._

_And to hear that voice reciting poetry..._

_Alex shuddered._

_Suddenly, he felt a warm breath on the back of his neck._

"_Shuddering already, Alex? That's not good."_

_Alex gritted his teeth. This was ridiculous! He had no idea what this guy looked like. He could not be getting turned on by this!_

_He knew he should have picked up a girl at a club before he gone on the mission at Hydratech._

_Wait... Hydratech? Yeah... that was where his mission had been... he had been looking for... something..._

_Uh! Why couldn't he remember?_

_He was dragged back to the present by the scrape of a chair on the floor. He could practically feel his captor's presence just a few feet away from him._

"_Tell me about your first mission," instructed the hidden man after a moment's silence._

"_I can't," said Alex._

"_Why not?"_

"_You know why not. It's classified."_

"_I suggest you answer the question, Alex," said the voice, low and slightly threatening. "Why did you agree to work for them in the first place?"_

"_No Comment."_

_There was a snarl of anger and Alex felt a fist connect with his jaw. He gasped and his head snapped to the side, only to be knocked into the way of another blow, unseen in the dark. Soon he was being pummelled mercilessly. His entire body screamed at him in agony._

_As he lost consciousness, he felt a pair of lips press themselves to the back of his neck._

"_Goodnight, Alex."_

_***_

Greg frowned slightly as Nick hung up his phone and left hastily. Something was obviously wrong. He hoped it wasn't anything to do with Wolf – he had actually sort of liked the guy. He was brusque and straightforward, but despite all that he was amicable and what he lacked in tact, he made up for in good intentions. Or maybe that had just been the hangover talking.

Either way, Greg hoped he was taking the death of his friend better than he had the other night. He shook his head to clear it of the idle thoughts and turned to the latest customer trying to get his attention.

His mouth twisted into a grimace that he quickly hid. It was Jake – Greg couldn't remember his surname. What he could remember was that the man had been hitting on him pretty much since he started here, and been getting more and more insistent each time. Needless to say this hadn't endeared him to Greg _at all. _In fact, Bella, the owner of the place, had had to warn him to keep a civil tongue in his head when talking to the man.

"Pint and a bag of ready salted," said Jake. "And... something for you, too? Help you relax a bit? From the looks of it you're about to have a heart attack."

"I don't drink while I'm working," scowled Greg, then forced himself to smile placatingly. "Thank you for the thought, though."

He fetched the order and turned to another customer, but Jake caught his sleeve.

"I saw you going home with that soldier fellow the other night, Greg. The customer excuse won't work anymore."

"Then maybe you should _take a hint_," snarled Greg, yanking his arm away from the older man.

Jake's eyes darkened with anger and lust. "I will have you, Greg."

"You will _not_," said an authorative voice behind him, and Greg turned around. It was Bella. The matronly woman was almost glaring at Jake.

"Mr Platt," she continued, "you have been a good customer for the last year or so, but I cannot have you threatening my staff. I must ask you to leave Greg alone, or I will have to bar you."

Jake scowled and ducked his head. "Sorry, Bella," he mumbled respectfully.

Bella nodded, then turned to Greg. "Can I have a quick word with you? Emma can cover the bar for a minute."

Greg nodded and followed her into the small storage room.

"How long has that been going on?" she asked, once they were alone.

Greg shrugged. "Pretty much since he met me. He seems... quite fixated."

"It's probably because you keep saying no to him," smirked Bella. "Is this why you were so rude to him last month?"

Greg nodded.

"Is there anything I can do? If you want, if he really is causing a problem, I can bar him."

Greg stiffened. "I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me," he said, coldly, then suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Thank you for the offer, but I really don't need it."

Bella gave him a doubtful look. "Well, if you're sure."

"I am," he said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

***

Though Greg could feel Jake's eyes burning into him, the rest of his shift passed without comment. He was still too absorbed with his strange response to Bella's offer of help. He knew he could handle it, but it wasn't like him to be so confrontational. He was still thinking on it when his shift finished.

He shook his head to clear it and removed his apron. Walking out of the pub, he wondered what he should do for the afternoon. He was on the bar again this evening, and didn't really think it was worth going all the way back to the flat for just a few hours. He could go to the gym... he had managed to score free membership in return for teaching kids Karate on alternating Saturday mornings. How he knew karate was still a mystery to him, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He nodded decisively and set off towards the tube station nearby. It was only a couple of stops away.

But he had only gone a few steps when the back of his neck prickled. He could have sworn someone was watching him, following him, and he thought he knew who.

He knew he should keep to busy streets; he knew that Jake would be less inclined to waylay him with witnesses, but for some reason his feet turned down a small, deserted alley. Inwardly he cursed himself. He was playing right into Jake's hands.

He heard footsteps at the edge of the alley and turned around. Jake was silhouetted against the light, his bulky form completely black. He moved forward, and Greg could suddenly make out the eager, twisted leer on his face.

"I knew you'd give in to me, eventually," he said, moving closer.

Greg tried to get his feet to run, but they wouldn't move. There was no way he could resist Jake. The man was bigger and stronger than he was and was reputed to get in – and win – more fights than every other customer.

He was getting closer every second; Greg could feel his stale breath on his neck as he leaned in.

He placed a hand intimately on Greg's chest. "I'm going to enjoy this," he sneered.

And then suddenly Greg was moving, not away but towards, knocking Jake backwards even as he grabbed his arm and twisted it. Soon Jake was pressed firmly against the wall, his eyes rolling in a desperate attempt to keep an eye on the teenager behind him.

Greg pulled his captive's arms higher on his back and was satisfied to hear a grunt of discomfort. He pressed a knee into the small of Jake's back to keep him in place, and raised his free hand to the man's shoulder.

Lightly, he traced his fingers over the man's grubby t-shirt, pausing over a specific spot.

"If I squeeze here," he breathed into the man's ear. "I can dislocate you're collarbone. It is supposed to be excruciating – worse than any other joint, and harder to fix... If I move to the left a bit," he moved his finger to the left. "I can knock you out. How long for depends on the person, but it doesn't really matter. For, once you're unconscious, there are perhaps a dozen ways that I can kill you without leaving a single mark."

He could hear Jake's breathing coming in ragged, terror-filled pants, feel his pulse racing in his wrists. The man jerked in a vain attempt to get free and Greg yanked his arms further up.

"You're not going to bother me again, are you?" he said, calmly.

Frantically, Jake shook his head.

"Good," said Greg, stepping back and releasing Jake with a jerk. The man stumbled, off balance, then looked at Greg with hate-filled eyes.

"Do not try to follow me again," said Greg, quickly moving out of the alley.

He shivered as he stepped into the bright sunshine. He really wasn't himself today. He would never normally do that. And where had he learnt all that stuff about pressure points?

Jesus Christ, who _was_ he?

***

_**A/N: Happy 2010, everyone! And look, I'm actually keeping to the Tuesday thing, aren't you proud? Well, I have finally managed to get over my writer's block for part two, and have started writing again. I'm still working on the big finale, but I have the route to getting there now and my writer's block has changed from a giant cliff face to a tiny stumbling block, so we should all be very happy! Well, you are going to kill me for bits of it... but oh well.**_

_**Anyway, review and tell me what you think!**_

_**Oh, nearly forgot. I don't own Alex Rider. That honour belongs to Anthony Horowitz. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Ok, so I am very, very happy at the moment. I have a strong coffee, a piece of my delicious chocolate birthday cake from yesterday and Mamma Mia on the TV. And now I'm sitting on the very comfy sofa feeling completely and utterly content.**

**But... I can't stay here all day so I'd better get on with it.**

**WARNINGS!!! : Slash. Not serious, not graphic, but there. You can flame me if you want, but I'll probably just take the Mick out of you. On my profile... in the next chapter... you name it. And I'll even reply pointing out all the flaws in your protests. Unless, of course, you're too chicken to put your name on the thing.**

**DISCLAIMER: As usual, everything belongs to Anthony Horowitz.**

**And finally we get onto the chapter. Enjoy!**

_***_

_When he woke up, his top had been removed, and a pair of hands was rubbing some cream onto the bruises that now littered his torso._

"_What are you doing?" asked Alex, his voice hoarse with pain._

"_It'll help reduce the swelling."_

"_You're trying to fix the damage you gave me?" asked Alex incredulously._

"_You should have just answered the question."_

_Alex rolled his eyes. Was this man serious?_

_His breath hitched slightly as a confident, graceful hand ran across a particularly low bruise._

_There was a low chuckle from his tormentor and Alex tensed angrily. He would not let this man know how he had affected him._

"_I didn't enjoy hurting you, Alex," said the man. Alex was fairly sure that was a lie, but he ignored it, remaining silent. He wanted to think._

_He remembered the mission now. He had completed it. He knew he had. All that had been left had been a pile of rubble. Really, it had been their own stupid fault for keeping the explosives so near the generator. Alex hadn't intended for it to happen, he had just needed to cut the power to stop production. He'd been about to head back to the pick-up point, then... nothing._

_Alex sighed. He was sure there was a clue as to who his captor was, if only he could remember it. Suddenly, he realised that only his feet were attached to the chair, and he flexed his arms slightly, testing the muscles._

"_Don't even think about it," muttered the man and Alex pouted slightly in the dark._

_At the man's slightly mocking chuckle, he quickly gained control of himself and his face went blank._

"_Oh, don't be like that, Alex. Masks don't suit you."_

_Alex thought about retorting, but before he could, a pair of warm lips were pressed forcefully against his. He gasped in surprise. His captor took full advantage, plundering his open mouth with his tongue. Alex groaned with pleasure._

_No. No! He could not be enjoying this. He was tied to a _chair _for Christ's sake! He jerked his head back, but the man simply transferred his kisses to Alex's now-exposed neck._

_This time Alex didn't even try to hide his groan and the man smirked against his skin. A hand rested briefly on his quickly hardening crotch, then all contact suddenly vanished._

"_Goodnight, Alex," said the man. The door clanged shut._

_***_

Work that evening was dull. Jake didn't show, for which Greg was eternally grateful. Nick was in again, with two of his friends. Not Wolf. He frowned slightly, wondering what the man's real name was, and why he had been introduced by his codename in the first place. The trio didn't stay long though, just long enough to eat a plate of sandwiches each. He wondered what they were doing, but guessed it didn't really matter. They were acting like it was a perfectly normal evening, perhaps planning to go bowling or something, but there was something underneath, a kind of cautious tension, that showed they weren't as relaxed as they appeared. Greg guessed that they were worried about something.

Greg had almost reached the end of his shift when Wolf came in. The man looked sleepy, as if he had only just woken up.

"Coffee?" suggested Greg when the man reached the bar and Wolf threw him a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks," said Wolf. "I was... erm... I was wondering if I could buy you a drink – you know, to thank you for the other night?"

Greg smiled. "Sorry, I don't drink while working."

Wolf's face flushed. He seemed embarrassed

"But," continued Greg. "I get off in ten minutes... if you want to hang around I know this great coffee shop around the corner – it stays open until about four."

***

Greg smiled at Wolf – _no, James_ – over the top of his coffee. He used to come here quite a lot before he found a place with Yuri. It stayed open later than pretty much anywhere else and was warm. His situation had been a peculiar one, in that he had money from his job at the pub, but nowhere to live because he couldn't afford the rent solo, and so he had come in here to get warm. He had even occasionally managed to persuade the manager to let him sleep in the store room for the night, at least when they were the one on duty in the morning.

Of course, he hadn't told James this.

One of the serving girls – Sylvie, if he remembered right – walked over to them.

"Sorry, Greg, we close in ten minutes."

Greg gave a start and looked at the clock, then ruefully eyed the many empty cups in front of them.

"Didn't realise we had been here that long," he muttered. "Thanks, Sylvie."

"You look worried about something," said Wolf, as they picked up their coats.

"Not worried, exactly. I'm just wondering how I'm going to get home. The tube won't be running now – not to my stop anyway. There repairs going on, on the track."

"Taxi?" suggested Wolf.

"Guess I'll have to," muttered Greg. At this rate he really would fall behind on his rent.

"You-" began Wolf, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "You could always come back to mine. I mean, all that caffeine woke me up so I doubt I'll be going to sleep for a couple of hours."

Greg smiled. "Sounds fun," he said.

***

Considering the amount of coffee they had imbibed in the last two hours, it probably wasn't surprising that neither of them were even remotely sleepy, so they both sat on James' couch, grabbed a beer and turned on the TV. After ten minutes they admitted that there was absolutely nothing on and James ended up rooting around his apartment for a DVD.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I keep meaning to organise it a bit, but there always seems to be other things to do, you know?"

Greg grunted, thinking guiltily of the state he had left the flat in. "I can honestly say that I am no better."

James grinned, eyeing his rumpled shirt and bitten nails. "I didn't think you would be."

Finally, the older man found a DVD and slipped it in.

"What are we watching?" asked Greg.

"Some demon-slaying film that my sister decided to get me for Christmas. I'm not quite sure why."

"Why we're watching it or why she bought it for you?"

"Both," admitted James with a guilty grin.

"You never know, it could be good."

"At least it's not a Rom-Com," said Wolf.

***

Greg woke up, surprised to find the credits were on. He was leaning on something soft and warm and, still half asleep, he nuzzled his head against the soft fabric.

"Guess you were more tired than you thought," said a low, amused voice, and Greg blinked.

"Huh?" he said, intelligently. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. James was looking at him, his dark eyes flashing in the dark. It made Greg distinctly nervous and he licked his lips. That look made him want to-

Before he knew what he was doing, he had leant forwards and captured James' lips with his own.

It was soft, just a gentle pressure before he stopped, but when he did he jerked back.

"Oh, god, James, I'm so sorry, I'll just-"

But his apologies were cut off as something completely unexpected happened: James kissed him back.

***

_**A/N: Yup, so the slash was just a kiss, but it will get more serious, if no more graphic. Please review. But... I'm changing what I said at the start. No flames please? I really can't be bothered to deal with someone who is enough of a loser to write one. It'd completely ruin my contented mood and leave me decidedly irritable.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Yes! I'm updating EARLY! I actually have no idea why though... just sit back and enjoy!**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Not mine, as usual. **_

_***_

_He hadn't even thought to try and escape, he rebuked himself, belatedly. Hours with nothing binding his wrists and no belt around his waist and he hadn't even thought about moving from his chair. He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. His curiosity to find out who the man was and why Alex was here had won out over his desire to escape, which should never have happened._

_It was too late now though. The man had come back and injected him with something. His feet were now undone as well, but it didn't help because he couldn't make his body obey him. The sense of helplessness made him want to lash out, but he couldn't even do that. The door opened and the man came back in._

"_I'm sorry I had to drug you," said the man. "I just don't want you to escape. You understand, don't you?"_

_Alex didn't respond – he couldn't – but a comprehensive list of angry curses were running through his head. The man was treating him as a pet and what was worse was that part of him was accepting it. Part of him was eager to please his captor in a wish to avoid the often excessive punishment. No, not punishments, Alex scolded himself, beatings. The man couldn't punish him because he didn't have the right. He could only hurt him in retribution._

_But deep down, a part of Alex sat up and begged when the man entered, and there was nothing Alex could do about it._

_***_

_Why the hell did I do that? _wondered Wolf. Greg was an interesting guy, and he would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't find the blond attractive, but he had never thought about acting on it. The man was too young to start with, perhaps as much as a decade younger than Wolf himself, but he wasn't about to change it now it had happened. It felt... good.

He pulled back from the kiss, which was becoming ever more hungry, and stared at the panting Greg.

"Do you-" he began.

Greg let out a groan that could have meant anything and pulled James back towards him for another savage kiss.

James found himself pushing against the younger man, pushing him backwards until his hands were resting on either side of Greg's head, a mere inch between their softly panting lips.

He could feel Greg grinding against him and was surprised to realise he was grinding back. He lowered a hand and rested it on the waistband of the blonde's black trousers.

"Are you-?" he asked, hoarsely.

Greg nodded emphatically.

Wolf moaned with desire and returned his lips to Greg's. It was going to be a long night.

At least... if he had his way.

***

It was dawn when Wolf awoke. The smooth leather of his sofa reminded him that he – they – had never made it to bed and were now lying, sated and exhausted, in the living room. He groaned at the feeling of Greg's lightly muscled and remarkably flexible – as the blond had proved repeatedly the night before – limbs rubbing against him.

They were completely entangled and it took a moment for Wolf to extract himself enough to sit up. Greg didn't stir as Wolf stumbled to the windows to close the curtains and block out the encroaching fingers of sunlight.

He couldn't stop himself glancing over his shoulder as his hands twitched on the curtains, just for one more look at Greg in the golden early morning light.

What he saw made him freeze. How he had missed, even in the dark, was a mystery to him. It was horrific.

Greg's chest was littered with scars and, in pride of place, right over his heart, was the distinctive mark of a bullet wound.

He hissed in empathy, a hand rising automatically to brush against his own bullet wounds. He had three, two in his arm and shoulder from that Stellenbosch woman in the French Alps and one in his thigh from Iraq, received about a year ago.

But to be shot in the _chest_... Wolf couldn't imagine it.

He jumped as something buzzed on the floor and it wasn't until Greg jerked and mumbled something, reaching haphazardly for his trousers, that Wolf realised it was the younger man's phone.

"Hello?" murmured the blond, obviously still half asleep.

"Yuri?" he said, apparently surprised. "Hey- hey! Are you ok? You sound weird."

"Yes, I'm fine, now answer the goddamned question," snarled the teen. There was a pause, then, "I'm coming home."

"Who was that?" asked Wolf, curiously.

"My roommate," said Greg succinctly. "I need to go home."

"Do you want a lift?" said Wolf. He had heard the conversation, or at least one side of it, and it was obvious that Greg was worried.

Greg paused, halfway through buttoning up his shirt, torn between his natural wariness and dislike of letting someone know exactly where he lived and his concern for Yuri and the difficulty of finding transport at this time.

"Thanks," he said finally.

***

Greg leapt out of the car even before Wolf cut the engine and was halfway up a rickety flight of stairs before he got out. Wolf decided to wait outside. He doubted Greg would welcome his intrusion.

He had only been waiting a few minutes however when a yell of shock echoed down the stairwell. When he heard Greg shouting his name, he started in.

What on earth was wrong?

***

Greg fumbled with his key, almost desperate to gain access to the flat. On the phone, Yuri had sounded strange, his words slurred and a tinge of unexplained panic in his voice, even as he tried to keep the conversation on a normal track. He claimed to be worried about Greg but, if that was the case, he would have waited until the morning. He was scared, and Greg knew it.

Finally – _finally – _the key slid into the lock and he pushed the door open. The main room was empty, but the door to Yuri's room hung open. Greg crossed to it, the careless action only deepening his worry. Yuri didn't like doors left half open – he didn't like that sort of carelessness – and as far as Greg could remember, he had never left his bedroom door open.

He pulled it the rest of the way open and froze, giving a hoarse yell of shock. Yuri was lying on the bed, motionless. A nasty purple bruise spilled over his shoulders and up his neck and several smaller, darker ones were scattered liberally over his hips.

Forcing himself into motion, Greg crossed to the bedside and turned Yuri's unresponsive body over.

With shaking fingers, he checked for a pulse and felt a surge of relief as he felt it, strong and steady, if slower than normal. His breathing was slower as well, but present.

Next, Greg pulled back his eyelids, and paled.

His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils dilated. Something was obviously very wrong.

"Wolf!" roared Greg, pulling Yuri into his arms and moving towards the door. His roommate needed a hospital desperately.

***

_**A/N: Read and Review!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Ok, so chapter eight is here. Not really much to say here, so I'll get on with it.**_

_**WARNINGS: Implied slash, implied dubious consent, swearing, possibly violence – related and thought about it not actually occurring – and I think that's it. Sorry that I forgot them last chapter. I probably should have mentioned the drugs, huh?**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise belongs to Anthony Horowitz.**_

***

_Before, he would have thought that he would feel humiliation and a kind of helpless horror at what was done to him. After, it just seemed natural to have surrendered himself to this man. He felt content as he lay in the dark, feeling the other man's body stretched out beside him. He wasn't in the cell anymore. He had been blindfolded and carried to what he assumed was a bedroom, though when the blindfold was removed it was still too dark to see. There was just one question still bothering him._

"_Who are you?" he said aloud into the dark and felt the man stir beside him._

"_Do you still not recognise me, Alex?" asked his lover. Part of him was desperately trying to deny the label, screaming that he was a prisoner and had to escape, but it was dwindling into insignificance. Why would he want to escape?_

"_No," admitted Alex._

"_The sun will rise in a few hours," said the man. "You will see then."_

_He shifted slightly and reached towards the bedside table before turning back to Alex._

"_Now, sleep," said the man, leaning over the teen to press a kiss to his accepting lips. Alex felt the prick of a needle on his bicep and sleep claimed him._

***

Greg sat in the waiting room, his head buried in his hands. He'd made Wolf leave hours ago, assuring him that he'd be fine. There was no real reason for him to stay after all. He'd already proved invaluable by getting them to the hospital in record time. Greg would have to remember to thank him for that.

Yuri had been badly beaten – they suspected some internal bleeding though they thought it would clear up on its own given time as it wasn't too serious. Worse was the apparent overdose of a chemical they had yet to identify. It didn't seem fatal, but it worried Greg more than the rest to it put together. Yuri didn't do drugs and was contemptuous of those who did. He had seen his mother give up everything for her next fix, eventually abandoning her own son under the weight of addiction, and had vowed never to make the same mistake. He wouldn't even smoke a cigarette.

That someone had done _that_ to his roommate enraged him more than he could say.

He was under no delusions about what had happened. Yuri had probably invited the man home as a customer and the man had decided this was preferable to actually paying. Greg had _told_ Yuri that what he was doing was dangerous – told him again and again and again – but the man had simply laughed of his warnings, saying he was perfectly capable of defending himself.

But how could anyone defend themselves against a needle? You wouldn't see it coming. You couldn't fight drugs.

Something about the entire situation made Greg shiver uncontrollably.

When he found out who did this they would pay.

Absorbed as he was in thoughts of anger and vengeance, he didn't notice the kindly nurse slowly approaching.

She reached out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and he jumped.

"Visiting hours are over," she said. "We'll contact you immediately if there is any change in your brother, ok?"

Greg nodded numbly. Brother, right, that was the story he'd given. His brother, found unconscious. He tried to ignore the vicious fist his hand had formed into at her touch. That wasn't him. He was normal – to some extent at least. He didn't prepare to remove a threat at just a gentle touch.

"Shall I show you the way out?" asked the nurse, gently, and Greg blinked as he realised she was still there.

"No," he said, standing. "It's ok. I know the way."

***

It took him half an hour to get back to the flat and when he did all he wanted to do was collapse on his bed and sleep off the emotional turmoil of the day.

But small, previously insignificant, changes were working his way to the front of his mind. The TV in the corner was unplugged and the wooden box it rested on had been moved. The draw in the single kitchen unit was open and the curtain to his alcove had been pushed back. Slowly he approached his sleeping area.

Here the damage was more apparent. His clothes were strewn across the floor and the box he kept them in half flattened underneath the window. His alarm clock had a large crack in the display and the mattress had been overturned.

Despite the havoc, it didn't look as if anything had taken. The only thing in the flat of any value at all was the rent.

Greg swore and hurried into the bathroom. The cupboard under the sink was open, the tub they kept their money in conspicuously absent.

"Shit!" he yelled, furiously. What the fuck was he going to do? There was no way he could get the money in time, now, and, if he didn't, the landlord would kill him. It was hard for him to get his half of the rent anyway, after transport and other expenses, and he had to manage the money carefully. The rent was ridiculously high, but with no proof of identity and no employment history it was the only sort they could get – under the radar. And as it was under the radar, Greg doubted that the landlord would have any qualms about shattering his kneecaps if he failed to pay up.

What the _fuck_ should he do?

***

Wolf frowned over his coffee. He couldn't get the image of Greg's chest out of his mind. Normally, having a lover's body constantly floating to the front of his mind was an amusing irritation, but he was genuinely worried about the blond. No-one his age should have scars like that. He'd probably only just got out of school, for Christ's sake.

And what kind of pervert did that make him, he wondered, uncomfortably. It would have helped if the man – no, _kid_ – didn't act so goddamned mature all the time.

_And if he hadn't been the best shag of your life,_ murmured a treacherous voice from the back of his mind.

"Oy, Wolf!" said Eagle, "Snap out of it and tell us what's got you so preoccupied."

Wolf flushed slightly as images of Greg's body flitted to the surface of his mind before he could push them away.

"Nothing," he grunted. "You're just not all that interesting."

"Hey!" said Eagle, in mock protest. "I happen to know I'm very interesting."

"To five year olds, maybe," grinned Bear. "To everyone else, you're just annoying."

"More importantly," interrupted Fox, a sly grin worthy of his namesake stealing over his face. "What was Wolf thinking of to make him blush?"

"I did not blush!" denied Wolf hotly.

"You so did," said Fox. "Now what was it?"

"Nothing!"

"Do you reckon he had someone over last night?" said Bear, grinning, as if Wolf hadn't spoken.

"I bet he did," said Snake, smirking. "Especially from the disarray the sofa was in when we came in."

Eagle, who had been sitting on the sofa along with Wolf, promptly swore and stood up.

"Gross, please tell me that it isn't true!"

"It's not true," said Wolf, completely straight-faced.

"Then why is there a pack of condoms under your elbow?" asked Fox, innocently.

Wolf swore and jerked his elbow sideways, looking down nervously. There were no condoms there.

"Bloody MI6 operatives," he muttered, amid gales of laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

_**AN: Ok, so some people have been complaining that my chapters are a bit short, so from now on I'm going to update twice a week. On Tuesdays and Fridays. I've written quite a lot on this story, this week, so I'm far ahead of this chapter and so the two updates a week thing shouldn't cause any problems. Unfortunately, I wrote a lot on this because I couldn't think of what to write for my other story, From Failing Hands, and so that is now in desperate need of writing. I only have eleven chapters on it and I've posted eight of them :S. With the rate I'm writing it, I'm not sure I'll be able to eep up the once a week thing. **____** Sorry to anyone reading it. I'll try and write some more this week.**_

_**DISCLAIMER : Anything you recognise belongs to Anthony Horowitz.**_

_***_

_His eyelids fluttered with the dawn. He felt there was something he should be angry about, something about being drugged, but he was too content to search for reasons not to be. He sighed blissfully as the warmth of the sun caressed his limbs. It was the first natural light he had seen since he had come here. With a heady moan, he pushed himself upright and looked around._

_The room was empty. He thought he should probably feel put out about this, but again the blissful contentment washed over him, erasing all negative thoughts._

_There was a door opposite him and he could just make out the tiles of a bathroom. He got up and stumbled forward._

_A shower would be good. He felt dirty, for some reason. He was, actually, having not really had the opportunity to wash since coming here, but this filth felt bone deep._

_A shower would get rid of it._

_The water was hot and steamy and powerful, beating his hair down to his head and massaging his aching shoulders with its powerful jets. He scrubbed until he was red-raw and no sign of dirt remained on him anywhere with the water almost hot enough to scold him. He still didn't feel clean, but guessed it was just from the days without a shower. He'd feel better soon._

_He climbed out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. Frowning slightly at the apparent lack of clothes, he walked back through to the bedroom._

_There was a man reclining gracefully on the bed. Alex's clouded eyes travelled up the long legs, over the toned chest and past the ruler-straight scar to meet crystal blue eyes._

"_Yassen..."_

_***_

When he got back from work, the next day, the landlord was waiting for him. Greg tensed, his eyes flicking around the apartment, but they were alone.

"You don't have the money," said the landlord. It wasn't a question.

Greg shook his head, wearily. He was almost beyond caring now.

"What, no excuses?" said the man, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't think it would make a difference," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. At least he seemed to be keeping the man off balance with his indifference. "Is there anything I can do to stop us getting kicked out or myself grievously injured?"

The man regarded him thoughtfully. "I heard your friend's a whore."

"He's in hospital," said Greg, curtly.

"Well, you're more attractive than him anyway. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement."

"Not about that, we can't," said Greg firmly, walking over to lean against the TV. It surprised him to realise that he really wasn't scared anymore. It was as if he had been through so much that he measured this against it and judged it insignificant.

But that was ridiculous.

Still didn't change the fact that he wasn't scared, though.

He undid his shirt and shrugged it off, revealing the t-shirt underneath. He was ridiculously casual about walking to his alcove and tossing the shirt onto his mattress.

Only then did he turn to the man, who had been watching him in bemusement.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he enquired, faultlessly polite. He didn't know how he had managed to stumble upon this tactic, but it was leaving the landlord completely wrong footed and so he kept going.

He was eyeing Greg's torso appreciatively, the blond realised. Jesus, what was it with the perverts?

"Well, if you're unwilling to-"

"I am."

"Well in that case you can work for me until you pay off the debt, or decide there is a more... interesting way for you to pay it off."

"And what would this involve?" asked Greg.

"Just delivering packages for me," said the man. "You won't see any faces except mine. I don't trust you – I'm just going to use you."

Greg shivered at the cold quality of his voice, but nodded.

"When do I start?"

"I'll come and find you when I have a job for you," said the man, before standing and leaving the apartment.

***

Wolf was surprised when Greg called him, asking if he wanted to 'meet up' this evening. He could hear the hunger in the younger man's voice. Despite everything – his discomfort over Greg's age, his worry over the scars and the fact he knew almost nothing about him – it only took him a moment to decide.

"Yeah, sounds good. You're not working tonight?"

"_No, I've got the night off. I could swing by yours about nine?"_

Nine. So he wasn't expecting a meal or anything. Wolf didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that. In the end, he settled for neutrality until he figured things out.

"Sounds good," he said. "I'll see you then."

***

Greg had never been one to fret over an upcoming date. He always took the view that if a relationship is going somewhere, it'll normally get there without help. This was why he didn't agonise over what to wear, simply changing his work trousers for a pair of comfy jeans. This was why he didn't think twice about setting the start for nine, at Wolf's place. If he was honest, all he wanted to do tonight was relax and he knew that seeing Wolf would be a good way to do it. Nothing helped him unwind like being shagged into the middle of next week, and Wolf had proved a _very_ good shag.

It was five past nine when he knocked on the door and James pulled it open only a few moments later. He looked slightly frazzled, as if he had been worrying about this. Greg guessed it was only natural. After all, Greg hadn't told James why he had wanted to come over. Even if you don't fret, saying you want to come over just to get laid is hardly polite.

Plus it wasn't just about getting laid. If it had been, he could have taken his landlord up on the offer and killed two birds with one stone. This was about chilling out, having a laugh with someone with who he could completely surrender to the desire that dictated their actions. He wouldn't have to worry about accidentally hurting James – the man was a soldier, after all. He didn't really care what James thought, either, despite liking the guy and so was completely free to be himself around him. He could say anything and judge it no great loss if James took it the wrong way.

However, James feeling uncomfortable wasn't helping anyone and if the awkwardness was allowed to spread to conversation, the date would only go downhill from there. Greg grinned at him and let his eyes sweep lustily over his lover's perfectly toned body, displayed to perfection in an army T-shirt and dark navy jeans.

"Every inch the soldier?" he asked, teasingly as he stepped over the threshold and positioned himself so close that all James had to do was reach out and grab him.

The man complied and Greg felt his brain short circuit as a pair of heavily muscled warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him in for a hungry kiss.

Ok, so maybe he cared a little bit what the man thought.

***

_**Ok, so please review. I love to know what you think and it really helps me write!**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Erm... not much to say, really. You're going to kill me when you read what I wrote over the weekend... luckily that's not for quite few chapters... but anyway...**_

_**DISLCIAMER: Not mine.**_

_**WARNINGS: non-recreational drug abuse. Slash. Underage Sex (not shown). No Flames about anything written here. I'm warning you for a reason!**_

_***_

"_Alex," greeted the assassin as if a man came back to life every day._

"_I thought you were dead."_

"_Obviously you were mistaken," said the assassin. "Come here."_

_Alex knew he shouldn't approach Yassen. He knew he should head the other way, towards the open door to his left._

"_Alex," said Yassen warningly. "Don't make me ask you again. You don't like it when I'm angry."_

_He gave a small, uncontrollable whimper and crossed to Yassen's side._

"_That's it," said Yassen, reaching out and caressing Alex's cheek. It was so different from the punishments that he couldn't understand it. Part of him was whispering about brainwashing and behavioural conditioning but he ignored it and leaned into the comfort in the touch. It felt so good._

"_Close your eyes," said Yassen and Alex obeyed._

"_Good boy," said Yassen softly, still gently stroking the side of his face. "Now I need you to stay still and relax, ok?"_

_Alex nodded and felt the prick of a needle. Immediately the small part of him still uneasy calmed._

"_Good," said Yassen. "Soon we're not going to need this at all, are we?"_

_Alex shook his head, not quite understanding what Yassen was talking about, but knowing the correct response anyway._

"_You must be hungry," said Yassen. "You've not had any real food in a while, have you?"_

_Again Alex shook his head._

"_Sit down here and I'll fetch you something," said Yassen, kindly._

"_Thank you," said Alex, sitting on the bed. Yassen disappeared through the door._

_Alex looked around the room. The door was still open. He wasn't tied up. The window was open and he could see the top of a lamp post outside it._

_He didn't move._

_***_

Wolf was surprised when Greg curled into him. He wouldn't have thought the boy was a cuddler from the way he acted, but it was undeniably nice to feel one hand gently curl around his bicep and the weight of the teen's head resting on his shoulder.

It was the leg that was causing him problems. Casually draped over him and inserted between his thighs, it was incredibly intimate and Wolf was finding it increasingly difficult not to wake the man up and ravish him, despite having spent the last three and a half hours doing exactly that.

He'd chickened out of mentioning Greg's scars. None of them looked newer than about half a year, had obviously been well tended to and the kid never mentioned them. Maybe he should just let the past stay in the past.

He sighed and turned his head to look at the blond. He looked curiously innocent when he was asleep, sweet almost. You would never think his personality was so self-assured or confident.

He wrapped his arm around Greg's waist, relishing the feel of his smooth skin under his hand. Pulling the blanket over them both, he drifted off to sleep.

***

It was Greg's phone that woke them. As he gained consciousness, Greg automatically pulled away, quickly becoming an independent, confident young man who didn't rely on anyone or anything. Wolf wasn't even sure if the man even knew he did it.

He growled in annoyance and swung his legs out of bed as Greg cursed under his breath and reached out for the buzzing mobile.

"I'll make us some coffee," said Wolf and Greg nodded before answering the call.

"Hello?"

"_Hi, this is Nurse Rosalie. I am calling concerning your brother, Yuri?"_

"What about him?" asked Greg, worriedly.

"_He woke up last night."_

"Thank you for telling me," said Greg. "I'll be over as soon as visiting hours start."

"Good news?" asked James as he walked into the kitchen.

Greg nodded. "Yuri's woken up. I don't have all the details, but I'll go see him later."

James nodded amiably and passed Greg a mug of coffee.

Greg wrinkled his nose at the black liquid.

"Got any milk?" he asked.

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Sacrilege," he muttered exasperatedly as he pulled the milk bottle from the fridge and passed it to Greg.

"Sugar?" he asked. Greg shook his head.

"Well that's something at least," said Wolf, sourly, and Greg smiled.

"Do you want me to make breakfast?" offered Greg.

James raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You can cook?"

"Apparently," said Greg, dryly. It was another skill he wasn't quite sure where he learnt. "How do you feel about omelette?"

***

Breakfast was surprisingly relaxed and disturbingly domestic, considering that Wolf was a soldier and Greg... well, Greg's idea of a home was a rundown flat that was always noisy, cold and damp with a landlord that was more likely to get arrested for armed robbery and drug dealing than try to fix the damage.

"What time do visiting hours start?" asked Wolf, as Greg poured himself a second cup of coffee and slipped an omelette and some grilled tomatoes onto a plate for the older man.

"Ten, unless it's an emergency. I mean, obviously they aren't going to kick you out if they're in emergency surgery or anything... but yeah, generally ten."

"So how did you meet what's-his-name... Yuri?"

Greg laughed slightly. "I'd discharged myself from hospital. I was terrified some do-gooder would try and put me in a home so I just left before they had a chance. Course, I then had the problem of where to stay. It was wet and cold and raining and the clothes I'd been wearing when I was taken to hospital weren't exactly warm. I thought I'd probably get taken back to hospital for pneumonia within twenty four hours of getting out, it was so bad..."

_The street was dark already, and Greg tucked his hands into his armpits in a vague attempt to keep them warm. Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital after all._

_He turned down a narrow alley, in a vain hope that the high walls would act as a barrier against the wind. It didn't happen. It actually emphasised the wind, acting as a funnel and now the air was roaring all around him. He sighed and made to turn when someone called out to him._

"_Hey, kid, what are you doing down here?"_

_Greg paused._

"_Is there a reason I shouldn't be down here?" he asked, genuinely curious._

"_I'll say," said the man, well, boy really: he didn't look much older than Greg. "This is my territory. You want to come here, you do as I say."_

_Greg eyed him up and raised an eyebrow. "And what's so special that I would bother?" he asked._

"_Nothing," said a voice from behind Greg and the blond turned around. "He just likes to feel important."_

"_Shove off, Yuri," said the man. "This is none of your business."_

"_No, I think we both know very well what my business is," said Yuri dryly, "but this is just pathetic. What exactly did you plan on doing to him if he wouldn't leave? Beating up people is too much like hard work for you."_

"_Well at least I'm not a whore," spat the man._

"_No, you'd never get any customers," said Yuri smartly and Greg suppressed a laugh._

_The man snarled and lunged at Yuri, but Greg stuck out a foot and he went sprawling._

_Yuri laughed and turned to him. "Not seen you around here before," he said._

_Greg shrugged. "Just got out of hospital."_

"_You got a place to stay?"_

_Greg shook his head._

"_I know a place," Yuri admitted. "It's still cold, but it's relatively dry, and it blocks the wind. Two bodies will keep it warmer than one. You in?"_

_Greg shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better._

"_Sure."_

"Wait a minute," interrupted Wolf, "You lived on the s_treets?_"

Greg shrugged. "Only for a couple of months. It was better than getting sucked into the system. It's not so bad if you have people looking out for you."

Wolf gaped, momentarily left speechless until another question nudged its way forward.

"What were you in hospital for?" he asked.

"What is this, the Spanish inquisition?" asked Greg, dryly. "I don't actually remember anything about the accident" –_or anything before it, _he added silently – "but they told me I fell off the roof of a building."

Wolf winced. "Sounds painful."

"I'll say," said Greg, sourly. "So what about you? What's your most painful experience?"

"Getting shot," admitted Wolf.

"Ouch," said Greg, inhaling in sympathy. "I think you've got me beat hands down. How did it happen?"

"It's happened twice, actually. Once in Iraq, and once in the French Alps."

"The Alps?" said Greg, his voice sounded kind of distant to his own ears. "How on earth did you manage that? It's hardly a warzone."

"We were back up for MI6." – _they were late, as always – "_Some creepy school master was abducting the kids" – _bugs under a microscope – dissection – snow and bullets – _"look, I don't think I'm allowed to tell you this, if I'm honest," said Wolf, looking up from his coffee.

"Hey," he said after a moment. "Are you ok? You look kind of pale..."

Greg shook himself, firmly. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Just tired is all. Look, I really need to get going. I'm working at lunch and if I want to see Yuri before then, then I need to pick up a change of clothes for work. I- I'll see you soon, ok?"

Wolf nodded, and Greg left the flat, barely noting Wolf's goodbye.

What on earth was that? His hands were shaking with nerves and he had to fight to keep his breathing steady. He sat down for a moment on the stairs to calm himself down. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he ran over what had happened. It still made no sense. Those images... those _memories_ couldn't belong to him.

It must just be over active imagination. He sighed and stood up. If he wanted to visit Yuri, he really did have to get going.

***

_**Please Review!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: OK, I'm going to start on the warnings...**_

_**WARNINGS: Dub-con, underage sex, behavioural conditioning and the results. Nothing in the main chapter, for once, though. Just the flashback.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: Do I even need to say this anymore? I'm not Anthony Horrowitz ergo, I don't own Alex Rider.**_

_***_

_He didn't know how long he had been here now; the days all seemed to blur into one. Yassen didn't keep a schedule. He would come in or leave at all hours of the day or night and eat simply when he was hungry. He'd wake Alex for company or patiently tell him to get some sleep._

_Today Alex was sitting quietly on the bed, looking down meekly at his bruised legs and arms. Yassen was working at a desk in the corner. The teen didn't ask what on. He briefly contemplated finding a shirt or something to cover himself with, but discarded the idea. Yassen liked him like this. He liked it when Yassen was happy._

_He shifted slightly and his abused muscles screamed their protest. He bit back the whimper of pain. Yassen didn't like it when he cried._

_Apparently, he hadn't been as successful at stopping the sound as he thought, however, as Yassen stopped writing. The assassin rose gracefully and crossed to Alex's side._

"_I'm sorry I hurt you," he said sincerely, sitting down on the bed beside Alex. "You understand why I had to, though, don't you?"_

_Alex sniffed and nodded. One strong arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, pulling the teen closer to his chest. Alex leant into the comfort of the touch, a stray tear soaking into the soft material of the Russian's shirt._

"_I'm sorry," whispered Alex quietly, burying his head in the shirt and snaking a hand around the older man's waist._

"_It's ok, Alex," soothed Yassen. "I know you'll answer my questions eventually. It's just going to take time."_

_They stayed like that for a while, until Alex calmed under Yassen's gentle touch, then Yassen slowly undid his trousers and shifted Alex around. Alex closed his eyes as Yassen pressed his face into the pillow. Yassen wasn't angry today. Maybe he'd be more gentle._

_***_

The hospital room was still as stark and sterilised as he had imagined and he wished he had picked up more to bring Yuri apart from a few essentials from the flat. Unfortunately, with all their money stolen, everything Greg had was going straight into savings so that they would be able to pay the landlord next month.

Yuri, when he reached the room, was sitting up in bed looking thoroughly bored while flicking through the abysmal daytime telly.

"Greg!" he exclaimed with a grin when he saw his visitor. "So nice of you to drop by! So tell me, _brother_, how are you?"

Greg rolled his eyes at Yuri's lack of subtlety and sat down on the chair beside the bed. "I'm fine. More to the point, how are _you?_"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," said Yuri, grinning elatedly.

Greg frowned slightly and looked at him weirdly.

"Are you on any painkillers at the moment?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Yep!" said Yuri, happily.

"Oh, great," moaned Greg. "You're high."

"I am not!" protested Yuri, outraged.

The blond simply buried his head in his hands and groaned.

"What's that on your neck?" asked Yuri, and he frowned, raising a hand self-consciously.

"Is that a hicky?" asked Yuri, grinning teasingly.

Greg blinked. Damn, it had better be low enough to be covered by his shirt collar or Bella would kill him.

"Here I am," mourned Yuri, "lying unconscious in hospital, while you're out there getting it on with some stranger."

Greg blushed.

"So who was it?" asked Yuri. "Were they hot?"

"Yes," admitted Greg reluctantly.

"What did they look like?"

"Remember that man I told you about? The one who was in the pub?"

"Him?" exclaimed Yuri, gleefully.

"Yes, him," muttered the blond.

"So, was he good?"

Greg blushed. "None of your business," he snapped.

Yuri smirked. "Tetchy, aren't we?" he commented.

Greg scowled. "You know you're going to have to thank him – it was him who drove you to hospital when we found you unconscious."

Yuri sighed, apparently disheartened by the subject change. "Yeah, I guess I will."

"Who did this to you?" asked Greg, after a moment's silence.

"A customer," said Yuri, vaguely.

"Not good enough, Yuri," said Greg, darkly. "I want a name."

"I'm not going to let you get yourself thrown in jail just for revenge," said Yuri, firmly.

"I won't get caught," said Greg, his eyes still burning with anger.

"I'm not risking it," said Yuri. "I can't keep an eye on you until I get out of here and that won't be for a couple of days yet."

Greg sighed. "I've got to go," he said. "I've got work in an hour. I'll come back tomorrow, ok?"

"Sure," said Yuri. "Take care, mate."

***

Work was pretty average that day. Nick came in about two to buy a sandwich. Greg was seriously considering buying the guy a recipe book, he was in here so much. Briefly he wondered if the man couldn't cook or simply disliked it. There were plenty of meals that could be cooked quickly, if that was what Nick was after. He'd spent almost eight years of his life surviving on them, after all.

He froze, wondering where that had come from. He sighed. He had a session with Dr Farroway tomorrow. Maybe the quack could actually do some good for once.

Jake was back in, but he was obviously avoiding Greg who was only too happy to let him do so. Emily took him the burger he had ordered and Greg pushed him out of his thoughts.

"You seem rather distracted, today," said a voice behind him.

He turned to find Bella standing at the side of the bar looking at him.

"Yeah," he said, swiping a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"Is something the matter? It's not Platt, is it? I can still bar him, if it is."

"No, no it's not Platt. He's been fine. I sorted that out a few days ago. It's my roommate, actually."

"What about him?" asked Bella.

"Uh, he's in hospital. Been unconscious for a few days, but finally woke up last night."

Bella sighed. "Go and see him. Take tomorrow off too. I doubt you're likely to do much good here anyway and you're scaring off the customers with that scowl!"

Greg grinned. "Thanks, Bella!"

***

He didn't go to the hospital straightaway. He went to the flat first.

This turned out to be a big mistake.

His landlord was waiting for him in the flat and Greg had barely even entered when he felt himself grabbed by the collar and dragged outside.

He stumbled and choked slightly as it caused his air to momentarily be cut off. He twisted trying to break the man's grip, but it wasn't happening and he was practically dragged to a large black range rover and shoved into the passenger seat.

"Where are we going?" asked Greg, massaging his sore neck with one hand as the man started the car.

"You're going to be delivering something for me," said the man.

"What?" asked the teen.

"The bag on the back seat," instructed the man curtly. "The address is on the top. I'll drop you off three streets away. You give them the bag, collect the money and then come straight back here, ok? I'll meet you here to collect it."

Greg nodded. It was fairly simple.

The car smoothly ground to a halt and the blond got out, pulling the black holdall from the back seat as he went. Sure enough, the address was only a few streets away.

He turned and walked away from the car, though turning his back on the intense gaze of his landlord made his shoulder blades itch uncomfortably. He kept walking.

***

Huh, So, can anyone guess what's in the bag? I'll give you a hint. It's not chocolate. More's the pity. Mmm.... chocolate. Maybe I should go and find some. *scurries off to find chocolate*

*Scurries back*

*pauses*

Don't forget to review!

*scurries away again*


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: I... erm... I forgot to update yesterday, didn't I? And it's ten minutes to midnight now so today's not going much better either, is it? Sorry. I don't really have an excuse. The chapter was written (hell, it's been written since before I started posting) and I spent all day doing practically nothing... so... yeah, I'm just really sorry.**_

_**As for what's in the bag... Drugs wasn't very inspirational, guys! I mean, seriously – come on! My favourite answers have to be Weapons of Mass Destruction (Very cool answer, but probably not actually feasible in the current circumstances) or lollipops and/or cookies because... well, frankly I'm on a diet and so my sugar cravings have gone mad. Kudos to Anastasia Blackthorne and alwaysawesome4me for creativity. Erm.. I got that the wrong way around there... alwaysawesome is the person obsessed with world destruction and Anastasia has the permanent sweet tooth (No offence, if either of you actually read this – I can proudly proclaim to share both attributes... though that probably just makes it more of an insult.)**_

_**Oh, and I **_**am**_** going to reply to all those reviews... I've just been a bit distracted this week. If you really want to know, you can blame amitai because... well, let me give you a flow diagram.**_

_**I read an Alex Rider fic of hers **____** I read another of her fics from the Merlin fandom **____** I become obsessed and go and read the rest of her Merlin fics on livejournal (they really are good – go read!) **____** I decide that I should probably actually watch the show before reading anymore so... I've spent the last two or three days downloading and watching the entire of series one and two... sad huh? So yeah, in a completely irrational, roundabout way... it's all her fault.**_

_**Ok, so it's not. It's mine for having an obsessive personality. Hey, I did warn you! It's all in the name, right?**_

_**Ok, so finally, after the authors note of DOOM (sorry, it's now midnight. I'm going to blame sleep deprivation despite the fact I'm not tired and have an absolutely MASSIVE caffeine craving right now. [yes, I get a lot of cravings, it's rather annoying] So I'm probably going to go and get coffee and then be up until dawn. Grr. I really should get some willpower.)**_

_**Anyways... as I was saying before I got distracted... onto business.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: completely, utterly and IRREVOCABLY disclaimed. Get that? So that means I don't want any nasty lawyers coming around and shouting at me, yeah? Good.**_

_**WARNINGS: erm... none... sorry! Oh, slight behavioural disorders on Alex's part... but that's kind of to be expected, I guess.**_

_**Ok, so it is now thee minutes past midnight and I really have to apologise for failing to get this out on Tuesday OR Wednesday. Sorry. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**_

***

_With no activity or thought to anchor him, he drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes cool air raised goosebumps on his skin, others he threw back the covers and let it wash over him. Only the semi-regular meals and Yassen's frequent, unpredictable attentions marked the passage of time._

_A voice wormed its way through to his brain and the fog receded slightly._

"_... weeks now. If you can't get results then maybe we should try."_

"_I am getting results as fast as I can. Do you remember why you came to me in the first place? You doubted the effectiveness of torture on him, if you remember?"_

"_Have you got the answers out of him?"_

"_No."_

"_So what have you got?"_

"_Obedience," said Yassen._

_The other man snorted. "Obedience? I doubt it."_

"_Alex?" called Yassen. Alex sat up and looked towards Yassen._

"_Come here, Alex," he said, softly. Alex rose silently to his feet and crossed to the door where the two men were talking._

_The newcomer glanced at Alex, taking in his soft, blank expression and his barely clad state._

_When he spoke again, his voice was heavy with amusement. "You're supposed to be interrogating him, not sleeping with him."_

_Yassen shrugged. "I see no harm in it. In fact, I believe it is helping."_

"_Enough," said the man, apparently losing patience. "If you can't get answers, we will try."_

_***_

He knocked on the door and a man answered it.

"You the new delivery boy?" he asked.

"It's a one off," said Greg. "He told me to give you this." He swung the bag off his shoulder. It clinked. So maybe it wasn't drugs then, mused Greg. But if it wasn't drugs, what was it?

"The money's inside," said the man. "Come in."

He was hesitant about entering, but guessed that he couldn't exactly ask the man to check the contents of the bag out here so cautiously walked through.

He put the bag on the table and watched as the man unzipped it. Metal glinted in the bright light. Guns and knives were bagged up and packed tightly into the bag's interior.

Greg paled. He'd known his landlord was a bit shady, but an _arms dealer?_ Shit, what had he got himself into?

"Come on, hurry up," urged Greg, nervously, eager to be out of there.

"Yeah, yeah," said the man. "Look, here's the money. Tell him I want the next batch in two weeks."

Greg nodded and turned swiftly towards the door, pulling it open. Two very surprised men were on the other side.

They recovered first. "Freeze, MI6!"

Greg stumbled back in shock, but stopped, frozen, when a red laser was focused on his chest.

Men poured into the apartment and Greg quickly found himself handcuffed. He had to stop himself from lashing out at them, knowing that it would only make the situation worse but instinctively wanting to escape from his captors. The other man was struggling on the ground as two men forced his arms behind his back.

A black haired man walked over from where he had been inspecting the contents of the bag. He stopped first behind the still struggling, though now securely bound, man and looked at him.

"Mark Mason," he said eventually. "We should have known it would be you."

The man snarled but otherwise didn't reply and the agent sighed and turned towards Greg.

"Do we have an ID for the... Alex?!"

"My name's Greg," said Greg, suspiciously. "Who are you?"

The man strode closer, his expression a mixture of extreme shock and happiness.

"Alex, god, we all thought you were dead."

Greg jerked back from the man.

"Who the hell are you?" he shouted in confusion and fear.

The man frowned.

"You honestly don't remember, do you?"

Greg shook his head.

"My name is Ben. Ben Daniels."

***

He was sitting in a white room, the only furniture an incredibly uncomfortable metal chair that was bolted to the floor and a small chemical toilet behind a screen in the corner. The door was locked but he hadn't been handcuffed, so apparently they trusted him a little bit.

Daniels had tried to talk to him on the way here, but the blond had ignored him. He wasn't trying to be rude, he was just confused. Why, of all people, would an _MI6 agent_ know him?

But Alex felt... right somehow, as if some part of him recognised it. But did he really want to be Alex? Alex was the one who had been given those scars after all and after having involvement with MI6 hinted at, he doubted it was because he was clumsy.

But that was the problem. He already _was_ Alex, even if he couldn't remember it. His past had made him who he was and surely he couldn't really understand himself if he didn't understand Alex.

Uh. He was talking about Alex as a different person again. Farroway would have a field day.

Maybe he would be less confused if he remembered. At the moment he didn't quite believe it.

The door opened and Daniels stepped through.

"Mr Daniels," he greeted politely.

"Alex," said the man. "Call me Ben. You did before, although you obviously don't remember."

"Alright," said the teen. "Ben it is then. But... please... don't call me Alex? I'm not him."

"You are," sighed Ben, "I can prove it to you, if you want."

"No," said the teen, waving his hand. "I know physically I may once have been him... but I don't know anything about him. For the last four months my name has been Greg. Though that feels increasingly weird too."

Ben looked thoughtful for a moment. "Ok, I'll try."

"Why are you here?" said the blond.

"Well, obviously we want to help you regain your memory, but first we need to know why you were in the house this afternoon."

The teen frowned. Should he tell them? After all, the rule on the streets was that you don't go to the police or rat others out... on the other hand, he had already been caught and would probably go to prison for arms smuggling if he didn't say _something_.

He sighed.

"I owed my landlord some money but I didn't have it. He said I could work it off and told me to drop the bag off at the address."

"I see," said Ben. "Can you tell us your landlord's name?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, never found it out."

"That's a little farfetched," said Ben, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I came off the streets with no past and no legal identity. Did you seriously expect me to be able to find legal accommodation?"

"Fair point," said Ben. "Did you know what was in the bag?"

He shook his head.

"Is there any more information you can give us?"

Again, he silently indicated that he couldn't.

Ben sighed. "Ok, then, thank you." He put away the notebook he had been holding and passed the teen the bundle he had been holding under his arm. It was a photo album.

"I found this in your old things. I thought it might jog some memories."

He stared at it.

"Thank you," he mumbled eventually, only to realise Ben had already gone.

***

_**Review and tell me what you thought! Longest (coherent) review gets virtual chocolate! And I'm now going to go and update the story I was supposed to update on Wednesday... oops!**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: I didn't update on Friday, did I? Sorry. Again, no real excuses. In other news, I am INCREDIBLY happy. I think I've found my perfect job. I'm writing press releases. They're news articles for magazines and newspapers written by... well, PR people. It's fun, it's easy and, while I'm not getting paid because it's only work experience, it's still WORK. (Have you any idea how long I've been looking for a decent job? No, of course you haven't, why would you? But anyway – it's been MONTHS)**_

_**Well, I'm updating on time today. :D**_

_**DISCLAIMER : Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**_

_**WARNINGS: Torture, Character death.**_

_***_

_The knife dug into him again and he screamed. For so long, he had tried to keep the noises in – Yassen didn't like it when he cried – but every slice hurt him more. The assassin was standing in the corner looking at the man slicing into his pet, a look of dark anger on his face._

_Alex flinched and bit down on his lip to stop anymore cries escaping. He didn't want to make Yassen more angry with him._

"_Just tell us what we want to know," yelled the man._

"_I can't," said Alex, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Yassen was going to be so angry. "I'm not allowed. Please! Please, stop."_

"_Enough," said Yassen. "He has no will to resist you and still is not answering. Torture will not work."_

"_How the hell is he still holding out?" spat the man in incredulous anger._

"_I don't know," said Yassen._

***

He was unsure whether he wanted to look through the album, at first, but curiosity won out.

The first page didn't have a photo, simply a message in unfamiliar handwriting.

_Happy Birthday, Alex. From Ian._

It seemed a little unemotional for a gift like this, but he didn't linger on it long, turning over the page to view the first photo.

It was a man and a woman, obviously on their wedding day. The inscription told him it was John and Helen, but it wasn't until he turned over the page to find the same two people along with himself as a baby that he realised who they were.

Eyes widening, he turned back to the first photo, his parents getting married. They were younger in this photo and they looked so happy. Somehow, he knew they were dead. He wasn't sure if it was a memory or deductive reasoning as otherwise surely they would have been looking for him, but he knew it as surely as he knew the sky was blue.

A quick scan of the rest of the album proved him right. There were no more photos of them.

Instead, they were replaced with a blond man who looked a lot like John, and a blond infant who he assumed was himself. The man was soon identified as Ian, thanks to a caption underneath. Not Ian's hand writing this time.

He sighed and flipped to the later pages, knowing he could search the ones of his young life at a later date but the information he needed was more likely to be in the more recent ones.

He stopped on a picture of himself, just a few years younger than he was now, perhaps twelve or thirteen. Behind him the pyramids rose majestically. He remembered that trip. Ian had had business in Cairo and had taken him out to see the Pyramids the day before they flew home.

Ian! Christ, how had he not remembered sooner? All the trips, all the lessons, all the...

He frowned slightly. Why couldn't he remember anything about the two of them at home? Surely Ian wouldn't have been away all the time.

But suddenly he could remember. Disappointment at another missed birthday, wondering if his uncle would come out of his office in time to make dinner as he didn't want to miss another meal. Being abandoned in strange cities so that Ian could go and work.

He sighed and turned the page. Another of Ian and him and a black haired boy that he felt he should know. There was no caption on this one, so he didn't have a clue from that, either.

He shook his head in frustration and turned the page, only to be arrested by a smiling picture of a red haired woman with a boyish face.

She was important. He knew she was. He traced a finger over the edge of the photo and closed his eyes, searching. He'd never wanted to remember something so much.

The force of the memory shocked him.

_The man had grabbed Jack, her pale face frozen with fear. Alex didn't even have time to react before the gun went off._

He leapt up and threw himself towards the toilet, barely reaching it before he threw up.

He was shaking uncontrollably, even as the desperate rage and grief swept over him. And guilt. She'd be alive if it weren't for him.

Suddenly the door was opening.

"Alex?" asked a familiar voice.

"There was so much blood," he whispered, a choked sob cutting him off. "Why would they do that? She never did... did anything to them."

He was oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to the arm set comfortingly around his shoulders and the tears trickling down his face.

"Come on," said Ben, calmly. "Let's get you to a room. You'll be staying here tonight, but there's no reason for you to stay in a cell."

The teen let himself be urged to his feet, but he couldn't see the room around him. All he saw was the bullet hitting her head. Again and again and again.

***

He was surprised to see Farroway in his doorway the next morning. It had seemed like only a gently enquiry on Ben's part last night that got his name.

"Dr Farroway," he said, wearily. He hadn't slept well and didn't have the energy to deal with the doctor at the moment.

"Greg," greeted the doctor, "Or should I say Alex?"

"I don't even know anymore," sighed the teen.

"So you've remembered who you were before the accident. How does it feel?"

"Pretty shit," admitted the teen. "Al- My life wasn't exactly all peaches and cream."

"Do you remember what happened to make you lose your memory yet?"

He shook his head. "Is that likely to come back?" he asked.

"With the right stimuli it should, but the problem is finding that stimulus as no one here knows what happened."

The blond nodded his understanding and went back to staring at the floor.

"I understand that some of your memories might be pretty horrific," prompted Farroway, slowly.

He snorted. "That's about right," he admitted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" nudged Farroway.

"Not really," said the teen. "I still can't relate them to me, not properly. It's as if I'm playing a computer game and everything that happened, happened to my avatar, not me."

_A giant computer game – snake blood all over him – cheating – guards._

He shuddered and pushed the memory aside. It would stay now he had found it again. Cray really had been sick. It would explain his aversion to the man's music as Greg, at least.

"You ok?" asked the doctor.

"I'm fine," he said, calm once more.

"Well at least you aren't dwelling on the memories," noted Farroway.

The teen simply grunted. He hated shrinks.

"It's not surprising that you're having trouble adjusting," said Farroway. "It's a big change."

"It's just... I don't know if I want to be Alex. I don't know if I _can_ be. But... with all these memories how could I ever just be Greg again?"

Farroway tilted his head to the side. "You talk as if Alex and Greg as if they're different people."

"Yeah, I know," said the teen, reluctantly.

"Well... who's talking now?"

The boy blinked then, after a moment or two, he smiled.

***

_**A/N: So, what did you think? Review and tell me! Oh, and the winner of the virtual chocolate? Is... BlackRoseDescending! Whoo!**_

_**Wait... virtual chocolate really sucks as a prize, doesn't it? *sigh* Sorry Rose.**_


	14. Interlude: Freedom

**A/N: Ok, so this time my lack of updates is so not my fault. Let me explain. My amazing-but-evil fiancé decided that he wanted my full attention for Valentines Day and the entire weekend, so on Thursday evening he logged on to my account and changed the details. As in password, email, EVERYTHING. He then forgot the password. He tried to retrieve it, but couldn't because he couldn't remember the password for the email. We had to wait for him to go to work and get that password and then come back and... well, yeah, you get the idea.**

**So we all agree that it wasn't my fault, right?**

**Anyway, here is an interlude, which you were supposed to be getting two weeks ago. I'll post the next chapter on Tuesday.**

**DISCLAIMER: As usual, nothing belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: violence, language, mentally instability.**

*******

_They'd left the door open. He felt no desire to escape, yet his gaze was inexorably dragged back to it. Deep within his bruised and bleeding body, some small part of him still preached self preservation._

_He would never try to escape from Yassen, but this newcomer wanted to kill him. He should leave. He could always come back after he left. Almost without instruction, his body rose to its feet and walked towards the door._

_He wasn't escaping. He was simply making himself scarce for a couple of days._

_Silently, he reassured himself, repeating the thought as he slipped out into the corridor. He turned right and kept walking._

_He came to stairs in the corridor and climbed them, hesitantly. With every step, the compulsion to return to the room grew stronger and he debated turning back, but no matter what he decided, somehow he never quite turned around._

_He was being funnelled upwards, he realised, as he came upon another staircase. There were voices behind him, but he ignored them._

_If he wanted to get out, he should head the other way._

_But he wasn't trying to escape, simply hide for a few days. Maybe there would be somewhere to hide up here._

_But Yassen would be angry if he hid._

_For the first time his stumbling footsteps hesitated._

_The voices were getting closer. It could be Yassen. He should stay here and wait to be found._

_Or it could be the other man._

_He started moving again, faintly registering that the footsteps were getting faster._

_The latest staircase brought him out to a small corridor. There was a door at one end._

_A closed door meant he shouldn't go through it. Yassen didn't like it when he went poking around._

_He stood and frowned at the door. He wasn't allowed to open it, but he was reluctant to retrace his steps._

_He sighed and stood, staring at the door. The footsteps came up behind him._

_He didn't turn around, but knew it wasn't Yassen. He would never make so much noise._

"_So you came here," sneered the man. "And Gregorovich thought you wouldn't try to escape."_

"_I'm not escaping," said Alex, honestly. His voice sounded alien to him, though he couldn't have said why. Apparently the man thought so too as he looked strangely at Alex. He didn't blink, simply stared back._

"_You want to go out there?" snarled the man._

_Alex shrank back against the door as the man started forward, flinging open the door then pushing Alex ahead of him._

_He found himself on the roof and the man began dragging him to the edge. He struggled. He didn't like this man. Only Yassen was allowed to touch him. Yassen had told him so. Yassen had promised._

_And then Yassen was there, his hand firmly clasped around the man's arm._

"_Get away from him," he instructed quietly._

"_Scared to lose your little fuck-toy?" sneered the man. "If we can't get the information out of him, he is no use to us. We may as well kill him."_

_Yassen's face hardened and he pulled the man away from Alex, who suddenly realised his head was suspended over empty air._

_Slowly, he climbed back to his feet, just in time to see the gun go off and the man die. He flinched._

"_Alex," said Yassen, calmly wiping a spot of spattered blood onto the dead man's shirt. "Come to me."_

_Alex looked at him, then glanced back towards the edge, right behind his heels. There was a reason he shouldn't go to Yassen, something to do with the body on the floor and a car crash. Something to do with his family. But that was ridiculous. He didn't have any family. Only Yassen._

_He took a hesitant step forward. _

"_Come, Alex," whispered Yassen, reaching out a hand to the young blond._

_A part of him – the part that had told him to leave the room and had stopped him going back, the part that screamed the message of self preservation – was telling him not to go to Yassen. It had lain dormant for so long that Alex found himself listening out of curiosity. Why shouldn't he go to Yassen? He was supposed to obey the man without question._

_No. He had a life. He had responsibilities. He should be more than a pet for a contract killer._

_He took a step back, confused to see the flash of alarm in Yassen's eyes._

"_Alex," said Yassen, carefully. "Come here. Step away from the edge."_

_No. He wanted to know why he shouldn't. He'd never know if he went back._

_He never wanted to go back._

_The thought came with startling clarity, piercing the fog. And immediately he knew it for truth._

_He took a step backwards and fell._

_For a moment he writhed in the air, terrified, then spread his arms wide and _accepted_._

***

**A/N: So what did you think? I'm curious to know whether you think it was attempted suicide or an accident, I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm not sure if Alex is sure.**

**So yeah, tell me what you thought about that.**

**Next chapter on Tuesday, possibly Monday if I get a lot of reviews.**

**I'm sorry if I scared any of you by vanishing, btw. I know I had one message asking if I was still alive (Thanks Rose! Nice to know you care!)**

**So yeah, I'm babbling, been doing that a lot, recently. Anyways, yeah, review!**


	15. Chapter 14

_**A/N: so I couldn't update yesterday, sorry. Network virus meant I couldn't go on the internet. Today I just decided I really didn't care that much and my virus protection software seems to be doing the trick so it's all good. In case you haven't guessed, the interlude last time kind of tied up the whole flashback thing, so no more of them, sorry. On the plus side this means that the main chapter will be longer, that's a good thing, right?**_

_**Oh, and if I get ONE MORE review about people trying to correct me when they aren't logged in I am seriously going to f-ing kill myself! For example, someone trying to tell me I got an age limit wrong. I go away, research it, and then find out that I was right and that they prompted me to do all this research without doing me the courtesy of logging in so I can say that, thank you for the concern, but it is right. AND ALEX RIDER DOES NOT SPEAK JAPENESE! JACK IS NOT BLOND! SHE DOES NOT RANDOMLY MAKE SUSHI! YASSEN IS NOT A RED HEAD! If I get one more complaint to ANY of my stories about my stories not being film-canon compliant I am going to SCREAM. I am a WRITER. I don't watch a film ten times so that I can get every little detail right. I read – the – BOOKS! My fics are BOOK-Cannon compliant. If you find a difference between them, please feel free to tell me, though. I hate discrepencies!**_

_**Sorry, major rant there, you know? It just irritates me that I can't let them know that I did listen to them, or rant at them to go and read the books, instead of relying on a film which completely massacred them.**_

_**Sorry, again. I'm blaming my bad temper on lack of food... it's nearly ten o'clock so I should probably make some dinner, huh? Anyway, onto the chapter.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual, none of this belongs to me.**_

_**WARNINGS: erm... none. That's weird. But yeah, this chapter is safe for all the family!**_

***

Tom hated History. It was as boring as hell. As far as he was concerned the past should be left _in the past_ and not be dragged through Brooklands school at five to three every Wednesday afternoon.

He sighed and doodled idly on the side of his worksheet. One, two, three strokes turned into an eye, a few more became lashes and soon an entire face grew out of the page, although it got cut off at the nose as he ran out of space.

He stared momentarily at the haunted darkly shaded eyes looking out at him and sighed. Why was it always him? Why Alex? He'd died six months ago and Tom couldn't seem to let him be.

"You're a good artist," said the girl to his right, studying the doodle. "Is he anyone special?"

Tom sighed again. "He was my best friend. He disappeared eight months ago but no one knows what happened to him. They say he's dead."

"They say? You don't think he is?"

Tom shook his head grimly. "Not Alex. He's a survivor."

"He's a druggie," said the boy on his left.

"Shove off, Jackson," snarled Tom.

The boy laughed.

"You don't want to talk to Tom, Marie," he said, addressing the girl. "He went crazy when his pathetic friend died."

Tom clenched his fists. The only reason Jackson wasn't sporting a bleeding nose right now was that Tom had been called to the office three times for fighting. He was on his last warning.

Tom looked up as the teacher's drone was cut off. He wasn't in trouble again was he?

He wasn't. The reason for the stop was a man in a suit standing in the doorway to the classroom.

"Excuse me," said the man. "I'm looking for Thomas Harris. It is a matter of importance that he comes with me."

Tom raised his head and stared. He'd got pretty good at recognising agents, thanks to Alex, and this guy wasn't even trying to hide it, but why would an agent want _him_?

He glanced at the teacher and stood up.

"Bring your things," said the agent. Tom frowned slightly but obediently gathered his things.

He could hear the whispers running through the classroom and suddenly wondered if this was how Alex had felt when they whispered about him.

He walked to the front of the classroom and through the door.

As soon as they were out of sight, the agent grabbed his shoulder to hurry him along.

"What's going on?" asked Tom, confused and not a little nervous. "Is this about Alex? Where are you taking me?"

"Your presence has been requested at the Royal and General Bank," said the man, curtly. No matter what Tom tried, he couldn't get more out of him.

***

Tom's first thought when he saw his friend was that Alex had changed. A lot.

There were heavy bags under his eyes, which themselves were troubled, but he held himself differently. He no longer looked as if a huge weight rested on his shoulders and the despair Tom had tried so hard to ignore had gone. He looked healthier, happier, than he had when Tom had last seen him, though a bit wild around the eyes.

"Alex," he said, starting forward. He couldn't quite believe he was there and had to resist the temptation to reach out a hand and touch the blond to make sure he was real.

Alex frowned slightly, as if thinking. "Tom Harris," he said eventually. He didn't sound too certain.

"Yeah," said Tom, smiling sadly. He had been warned about his friend's amnesia, but hadn't really believed it until now.

"You were my friend. You knew about my job."

"Am, Alex," corrected Tom, gently. "I am your friend."

Alex smiled with real warmth in his eyes. "So do you feel like helping me break out of here, then?" he asked.

Tom smirked.

***

Tom's job was fairly simple, go down to the reception and stand in such a way that the door leading to the stairs would be concealed from the CCTV camera installed there. The rest was up to Alex.

He watched as Alex slipped out of the door and towards the exit, attaching himself to a middle aged woman who was just leaving. With his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched moodily, he fitted perfectly into the role of teenage son being dragged around town by his mother.

The people surreptitiously standing guard didn't even glance at him and Tom slowly shifted left, pretending to look at the leaflets in the rack on the wall, to make sure he stayed out of the camera's line of site.

The blond slipped out of the doors and vanished into the crowds. Tom smiled. His friend was good at disappearing.

***

He was so tired. So, so tired. After everything that had happened all he wanted was to sink down into a bed and sleep. He couldn't wait until he got back to the flat.

The flat... was it even safe anymore? Would MI6 know about it?

No. No, they wouldn't. The only lead they had to this life was the man they had arrested with him, and he wouldn't have known anything about 'Greg'. More pressing was his most-likely-vengeful landlord. After all, he had, technically, failed the job and the money and weapons had been confiscated by MI6.

Well, he could deal with him if he had to. He remembered now, and he had dealt with worse. He doubted the man would threaten to dissect him alive or crush him in a sugar factory. And he probably wouldn't go so far as to kill him, though knowing what he did about the man now, he was starting to feel a hint of doubt about that.

Well, only one way to find out. He sighed and headed back to the flat.

***

It was surprisingly lonely, living on his own. He missed Jack. He could remember learning to live with the guilt and the grief, but having remembered her and lost her all over again was leaving him feeling numb.

He wished Yuri was here; he always could cheer him up. Christ, how was he going to tell Yuri? Well, now that he actually had an identity, he might be able to find them somewhere else to live, at least.

But that would mean MI6 would have control of him again.

He growled in frustration and threw himself down on his bed. He should get some sleep. He'd figure it all out in the morning.

***

Bear sighed and looked around. They'd been called in for another assignment. Snake was there, leaning against a wall at the back for the moment, but all the others were unarmed combat specialists. A black haired woman came in to the front of the room and the soldiers stood to attention, lining up within seconds.

"Good evening, gentleman," she greeted them. "I am Mrs Jones. The mission briefing you are about to hear is top secret. This" – she pressed a button on a remote in her hand and a picture flashed up on the screen – "is Alex Rider. We need you to capture him, alive and preferably unharmed. We believe he is living somewhere in London..."

Bear ignored her. That was Greg on the screen. But she had said he had been called Alex. He glanced left and caught Snake's eye. Finding him wouldn't be a problem, but why did they want him?

***

_**A/N: Read and Review!**_


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: I have realised that I am exceptionally BAD at looking after myself. Most people eat when they're hungry, sleep when they're tired, right? Not me. I have too little common sense. It's not that I can't cook, it's just that I seem to have better things to do. Hence the reason I had a bowl of cheerios at seven this morning and then nothing until midnight, at which point I pulled some tuna-onion mayo (really, really tasty. Basically tuna mayo with really small bits of red onion) out of the fridge and mae myself a sandwich. A frickin' _sandwich_. Am I supposed to convince myself that that's a day's worth of nutrition? I haven't even had anything to bloody drink today!

Why the hell doesn't my body tell me when it wants something instead of assuming I'll look after it when it doesn't give me the slightest hint of what it needs!

No wait, not fair. When I need to sleep, it gives me a headache. You have no idea how long that took for me to figure out. How am I supposed to realise I'm tired when I feel wide awake for Christ's sake!

Sorry, had to have a rant there. I'm getting really good at them, huh? My body is obviously seriously screwed up.

Anyway, sorry this is twenty five hours late...

WARNINGS: Violence, language (sorry, I guess that's kind of a given for this story... I really need to stop swearing so much, huh?)

DISCLAIMER: As much as I would love to own Alex Rider, Anthony Horrowitz hasn't been very co-operative so I don't, yet. But I will. One day... mwahaha!

*** He was pulled from his bed in the middle of the night. He barely had time to register the angry face of his landlord before he was brutally thrown into the wall. He gasped in pain as his head slammed against it and for a moment he saw stars.

When his vision cleared, his landlord was leaning against the far wall.

"Where's my money?" he spat.

"MI6 busted the deal," said Alex, dropping his head onto his knees in exhaustion. Couldn't he just catch a break for _once_?

"Sure they did," sneered the man. "Which is why you're here without a mark on you."

"They arrested me," said Alex. "I escaped. They didn't think I was that much of a threat. I just climbed out of the window."

"What about Mason?"

"Who?" said Alex, blankly.

"The man you were giving the stuff to."

"I don't know," admitted Alex. "I haven't seen him since they handcuffed us."

"Bugger," swore the man, before turning back to Alex. "You owe me a lot of money, boy."

"I owe you nothing," said Alex, coldly. "It's not my fault they busted us and I'm pretty sure that getting arrested for you makes up for any money I owed you for rent."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You will pay me back," he said, menacingly.

Alex raised his chin defiantly and sneered. "Make me," he said.

***

He whimpered in pain. He'd been holding his own, if not winning, until the man had pulled out a gun. With the barrel against his head, he had no choice but to stand there and take the exceptionally thorough beating.

The man delivered one last, brutal blow to his abused torso and turned around. "You'll have my money by next week or next time I'll break something," he said. It wasn't a threat; it was a statement by someone who simply knew it for truth. He walked out.

Alex had no idea how long he sat there, his gasping breathing hitching as the darkness pressed close around him. Only the noise of the occasional car kept him company. The noise of the cars, and his own desperate whimpers of pain.

He didn't think he'd ever...

Normally adrenaline kept the worst of it at bay, before, when he was Alex, but now... he was alone and nothing was stopping his nerves from writing the pain across his brain in lines of white fire.

But he couldn't sit here, weak and pathetic for the rest of the night. He had to get up, get moving and work through the pain.

Experimentally, he breathed deeply, trying to ignore the sharp, crushing pain in his chest. It became easier with practice. Lord knows he had had enough practice.

Slowly, painfully, he set his hand on the floor and pushed. Pain exploded in his shoulder. He screamed and dropped back to the floor. That obviously wasn't going to happen.

He slipped back into that pain induced, trance-like state where time dilation seemed as natural as breathing. Sitting with his back against the cracked wall, he was too cold and uncomfortable to sleep, but in too much pain to move elsewhere, despite his bed being just a few metres away.

He noticed with tired eyes as the stars, just visible through the dirty glass of the window, vanished one by one and the first tentative tendrils of the dawn found his bruised face. It was too early for him to feel its reassuring warmth, but just the light made him feel better. Soon the world would be waking.

His night alone reminded him of another night, a long time ago. Most of the time he was a little vague on dates, but he remembered this one.

_He had spent the night in the tree, afraid to move though the search had been given up hours ago. Abandoned and hunted in enemy territory, he had never felt so alone. He couldn't sleep, couldn't move, in case they came back. His leg hurt and every time he moved a new wave of dizziness hit him. He was pretty sure he had a concussion, though it would have to be mild or he doubted he would have been able to stay clinging to the branch for as long as he had._

_It was cold, but he ignored it. It didn't really matter. There was nothing he could do about it, except shiver as the dew soaked through his clothes. He wanted so badly to sleep, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he was safe. His ears strained against the silence, but heard nothing. He pulled himself up higher in the tree and managed to wedge himself between two thick branches. _

_It was almost light when they came. Heavy footsteps and quiet voices._

"_He must be near here: the signal is getting stronger with every step we take."_

"_Why don't we just call him?"_

"_Because we don't know who could be around, dumbass. We've taken out their main base of production, but I doubt that was all there was to their army. It was too easy."_

_He knew that voice. They were on his side. They were SAS._

_He almost cried with relief as he slipped down out of the tree._

_Four soldiers were about ten metres away with their backs to him._

"_Fox?" he called softly._

_They turned around._

"_Cub," said Fox, relief obvious in his tone. "Are you ok?"_

_Alex nodded then winced, immediately wishing he hadn't as another wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him. A strong arm caught him as he swayed and questing fingers found the cut on the back of his head._

"_Concussion," diagnosed the soldier._

"_I'll take him," said Fox, crossing to the teen's side. He couldn't fight unconsciousness any longer and blissful darkness welcomed him._

_The last thing he knew was a familiar pair of arms lifting him and a soft voice whispering._

"_Happy Birthday, Cub."_

That time, help had come with the dawn, ending his night long vigil. This time no help was coming. He was alone.

And he couldn't stay against this wall forever. He had to move.

Filled with renewed determination, he leant his weight on his uninjured arm and slowly levered himself into a crouch, his body protesting against every movement.

He stayed like that for a moment then, using the wall for support, stood up. His hands were shaking, he realised, and what little portion of his skin wasn't dark with bruises was white with cold. He wanted to have a shower so badly, but didn't know if he could stay upright long enough. Passing out under running water would not be a desirable outcome.

He didn't realise his phone was ringing straight away. Awareness came slowly and the few stumbling steps towards it were enough to bring him back to his knees beside it. He forced his fumbling fingers to close around it and answered.

"Hullo?"

"_Hey, Greg, how are you?" _came the deep voice. It was James.

"'m ok," lied Alex. "You?"

"_You don't sound ok,"_ said James, suspiciously.

"No really, 'm fine," mumbled Alex. He made a conscious effort not to slur his words but didn't know if it had helped at all.

"_You're obviously not," _said James. Alex could hear the worry and annoyance in his tone. "_I'm coming over, ok?"_

"No, I-"

James hung up.

Alex sighed. How was he going to explain this?

Oh, shit.

How was he going to explain who he really was? James, Wolf, didn't know yet.

Oh god, he was going to kill him.

***

A/N: Please review, it makes me happy!

PS to EriKaBalDel... mwa ha ha ha. Looks like you'll have to wait at least one more chapter! :P

Oh, and despite cackling evilly in both author's notes I am not going insane. I swear!

...

Well, no more than I already was...


	17. Chapter 16

_**A/N: So, I have a problem. Not only is my charger breaking, but I have a navy blue blotch approximately the size and shape of a two pence piece. Luckily it's right at the top of the screen, so not completely the end of the world, but looks like I have to get a new laptop. *sigh* shame I know really nothing about computers, huh? Ah well, not like I need to run games on it, just music, movies, word and internet. Excel occasionally. But yeah, that's the sum of my world on the laptop. I'm not sure if it's sad or not... Anyways, anyone got any suggestions about what I need and don't, would be great, but meh. I'll figure it out, I guess, when I get the cash. **_

_**Oh, and I want to clear something up here. Why Bear and Snake were set to looking for Alex but Wolf and Eagle weren't. Only Wolf was mentioned in Point Blanc, Alex doesn't recognise anyone else, so I'm assuming that while they train together, they don't necessarily go on assignment together. They've all got different specialities, surely they would pick the most appropriate for the mission?**_

_**And now onto the chapter!**_

_**Warnings: None.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual, I own nothing. And I'm getting seriously bored of writing these things.**_

***

It couldn't have been much later when he heard the heavy, hurried footsteps on the stairs. He had barely moved from his position kneeling on the floor, head leaning against the wall and couldn't help but feel relief along with the expected trepidation at the approach of his team leader, and lover.

There was a brief knock on the outside door and the familiar squeak of hinges as it opened under the soldiers touch.

"Greg?" called the voice.

"Here," called Alex hoarsely, knowing he couldn't put it off forever.

"Jesus Christ," said Wolf when he saw him. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"No one," mumbled Alex. "James, I need to talk to you..."

"Later," said Wolf, frowning in concern. "Now tell me who did this to you."

He shifted uncomfortably, grimacing at the fresh wave of pain that even that small movement brought.

"Greg..." said James warningly.

"My landlord," admitted Greg, quietly.

Wolf's eyes widened in shock. "Why?" he asked.

Alex didn't like giving so much away, but didn't like lying to Wolf either and at the moment it was easier to tell the truth than think up a plausible lie.

"Said I owed him some money."

Wolf's eyes narrowed.

"Come on. You're coming back to mine. Who knows when that bastard might come back."

Wolf helped the younger man to his feet. He practically had to carry him downstairs, but soon had him strapped safely into the passenger seat of his car. A quick trip back to the flat turned up a box of clothes, a wallet and a phone. It seemed to be everything Greg owned and Wolf sighed. Sure, it was technically all you needed, more than, really, but the fact that it all fitted into one small cardboard box made him feel unaccountably guilty.

The bedroom was his roommate's – Yuri's – if Wolf remembered rightly, but he quickly scooped up the toiletries in the bathroom and the small amount of money under the sink, thinking that leaving anything of value in a place like this would be exceptionally stupid.

He put them in the box too and carried it downstairs, shoving it onto the backseat.

Greg was asleep, he noted, slightly uneasily. He really hoped that the kid didn't have a concussion. That could be bad.

Maybe he should take him to the hospital?

No. Greg had been leery enough of telling him what happened. Wolf was pretty certain he'd run a mile at the sight of anyone official.

***

It was half an hour later and they were back at Wolf's apartment. It was undeniably warmer than Greg's and the teen was making full use of the facilities with a long, hot shower, though Wolf could only imagine that it would be aggravating the sensitive bruises.

He'd dug out his first aid kit and checked he had what he needed as soon as he had come in. Now all he could do was wait for the blond to come out.

Greg emerged perhaps ten minutes later with one of Wolf's towels wrapped tightly around his hips. He quickly pulled on a pair of clean boxers and jeans before Wolf gently took the t-shirt out of his hands.

"Sit," he instructed, before pulling the first aid kit towards him. He rubbed Arnica cream into the bruises and an antiseptic onto the graze on the blonde's shoulders. His left shoulder worried him, he thought it might be sprained, if not fractured, and resolved to ask Greg to let him take him to a hospital to get it x-rayed as soon as he was feeling better.

"James, we really need to talk," said Greg and Wolf paused in his ministrations. He could hear the exhaustion in the teen's voice, but he could also hear nervousness. Whatever it was, Greg wasn't sure how he would take it.

"Later," he said firmly. "You need to sleep now."

"I-"

"Later, I said."

Alex acquiesced when it became obvious Wolf wouldn't change his mind, but he still felt nervous. He wanted to tell Wolf now. The longer he delayed, the more angry and hurt Wolf would be.

"Bedroom's this way," said Wolf, as if Alex didn't know, but Alex quickly shook his head.

"No! Please, can I just stay here? I don't need to sleep long and I..." he broke off, flushing slightly at what he had been about to say. _I don't want to be alone._ Strangely, it wasn't the beating that had made him skittish, but rather Wolf's treatment of his bruises. He could almost sense a memory lurking on the edge of his conscious mind, but something was keeping it back. He was relieved. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be a good memory.

Wolf looked at him searchingly for a moment, then nodded.

"Ok," he said. "I'll get you a pillow and a blanket."

By the time he came back, Alex was asleep.

***

Ben woke the next morning and immediately felt a surge of elation as he remembered the events of the last two days. Alex was alive and, even if he didn't remember everything, he knew who he was now. Of course, the teen had somehow escaped the bank without anyone seeing him, apart from the one guard he had knocked out, but Ben couldn't say he was surprised. Alex would never accept limits on what he could and could not do so it was unlikely he was just going to stay put. He'd come back eventually, he just needed time to accept who he was.

Or maybe he wanted to disappear again...

Either way it was Alex's decision and Ben was just happy he was ok.

He should tell Wolf. The man had drunk himself into a stupor over the spy's death, surely he would want to know he was, in fact, alive.

He'd go over now.

Or as soon as he was dressed anyway.

***

He hadn't wanted to risk waking Greg by turning on the TV, especially when he so obviously needed to sleep, so he had pulled one of his dusty books off a shelf and begun to read it. He'd only read two chapters when the knock on the door came. Wolf sighed and, with a last glance at Greg, went to answer it.

"Fox?" he asked, surprised. The man was smiling and seemed to be insanely happy. "What's got you so high?" he asked.

"Cub's alive," said Fox, and Wolf blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry?" he said, disbelievingly.

"We found him the day before yesterday," explained Fox. "Picked him up on an arms deal he had been coerced into doing. He..."

Fox trailed off, looking at Greg with shock on his face.

"He's asleep on your sofa," he said, as if not quite believing it himself.

Wolf blinked.

"That's _Cub?!"_

***

_**A/N: Sorry, I'm being cruel about the cliff hangers, aren't I? Lol. If you all review, I might just update early :P**_

_**If not, I'll update Friday.**_


	18. Chapter 17

_**A/N: So, I categorically failed on the early update. Sorry. But, it is Friday. And I'm new to this working week thing. I don't quite get how it's so exhausting because the days I'm working are far shorter than school days, I don't bring work home with me, and I don't have one or two extracurricular activities everday. Oh, and I don't have work on Saturdays either, and I can sleep in on Sundays! So why on earth am I so tired? The work isn't even as hard!**_

_**Ok I have to stop these pre-chapter rants, huh? However therapeutic they are, they probably bore you all and I doubt you actually read them, so, moving on!**_

_**Warnings: none, again. What is happening to me?**_

_**DISCLAIMER: My fairy godmother came. She was bit put out when I told her I really didn't care about going to the ball but instead wanted the rights to Alex Rider, but she tried. Anthony Horowitz wouldn't sell to her either.**_

***

Greg – Cub – woke up to Wolf's shocked exclamation.

He looked from Wolf to Fox and then back again.

"Ben," he greeted, wearily, pulling himself into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Ben?" snarled Wolf. "How did you know his real name and _when were you planning on telling me yours?_"

"I _tried_ to," said Alex, looking slightly hurt. "You kept telling me we would talk later."

"And you didn't think you should tell me when we first sl- met?" said Wolf, scowling.

"Oh," said Alex, turning to Ben. "I take it you haven't got to the amnesia bit yet."

"Not yet," said Ben, something remarkably close to anger flickering behind his confusion. "Why, exactly, are you semi naked on your team-leader's couch?"

Alex ignored the question. "After an accident – you remember me telling you about falling off a building in hospital? – I forgot everything. I couldn't remember who I was, where I was from or what I did for a job. I forgot _everything_. Fox found me the other day and took me down to the Royal and General. I had been remembering some things just by being around you – I think seeing you and Eagle and Snake in the pub that day started it as I began having weird dreams and flash backs – but none of it made sense to me. It wasn't until Ben gave me a photo album that he had found among my old things that I remembered everything."

He paused and looked at Wolf, pleading with his eyes for the man to believe him. "I didn't keep it a secret from you, James. I didn't know, I _swear._"

"James?" said Ben, incredulously. "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Did you expect Wolf to give a civilian his code name?" asked Alex, looking at Ben.

"No, but why would he give you his name at all?"

"He drank himself into a stupor over the death of some kid at the pub where I work," said Alex, before narrowing his eyes. "That was me, wasn't it?" he asked, shrewdly, and Wolf nodded, flushing slightly. "Well, I felt guilty about leaving a paralytic guy to fend for himself so I saw him home. I felt like I owed him something... I do, actually. You saved my life at Point Blanc."

Wolf shrugged. "You saved my career. _And_ I was a complete arse to you at Brecon Beacons. I'm pretty sure we're even."

"Not by a long way," said Alex, firmly. "You got _shot_ for me."

Ben narrowed his eyes. "That still doesn't explain why you're here now," he said, coldly.

Alex bit his lip and glanced at Wolf.

Ben's jaw tensed in anger and he rounded on his friend.

"He's _sixteen_," snarled the agent. "He's sixteen and you're screwing him! That's- that's sick, not to mention _illegal._"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Ben," snarled Alex. "He's hardly the first man I've slept with. And anyway, _I_ initiated it, not him."

Ben looked a bit taken aback. "But-" he tried.

"No," spat Alex, angrily. "You accept that I'm mature enough to be a spy. You can't say that I can do that but can't choose my own lovers."

Ben looked a bit guilty. "I never thought you should be a spy. You're good, but you should be in school."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" said Alex, moodily.

Ben sighed. "I guess you have a point," he said and turned to Wolf. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken your head off like that. It was uncalled for and unjustified."

"Not to mention patronising," muttered Alex, but he was smiling slightly as he said it.

Wolf groaned slightly. "If that's how my oldest friend takes it, I don't want to know about everyone else."

"Keep it quiet for now," suggested Alex. "It's just easier."

"I guess," said Wolf. "Now what was this I heard about an arms deal?"

Alex sighed.

"I was hoping you had forgotten about that," he said. "You remember Yuri?" he said and Wolf nodded. At Fox's blank expression, he added, "My roommate."

"Oh," said Fox.

"Yeah, well, whoever beat him up – I still need to get a name out of him," he glowered. "Whoever beat him up stole all the money that was in the flat – our rent for the month. My landlord said I could get out or repay my debt by working for him, seeing as how there was no chance of me earning back all the rent on my own. He told me to do the arms deal."

"And he came and beat you up because you didn't get him the money," guessed Wolf shrewdly.

"Wait, he _what?_" exclaimed Ben, for the first time taking in Alex's battered appearance.

"Shit, are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," said Alex, waving the agent away impatiently. It was relatively true. He wouldn't be running any marathons for a few days, but he felt infinitely better than before. Apart from his shoulder. That hadn't changed much

"He is _not_ fine," growled Wolf. "He's covered in bruises and could barely move when I found him. And I'm worried about his shoulder."

Alex scowled. "Thanks, James," he muttered.

"You want me to have a look at him?" Ben asked James.

"Please," said James. "First aid was never my strong point."

"Believe me, I know," muttered Ben as he approached Alex.

The teen sighed and turned around, allowing the agent better access to his injured shoulder.

Ben gently ran his fingers over it, before repeating the action more firmly, making Alex wince.

"Have you injured it recently, before this?" he asked.

"Define recent," said Alex.

"Within the last year."

"Yeah," admitted Alex. "When I woke up in hospital they said I had shattered my shoulder blade. Had to have reconstructive surgery on it."

"You may have a fracture along one of the lines you broke it on before," said Fox. "You should go to hospital and-"

"No," said Alex, firmly. "I've spent far too long in hospital already."

Fox sighed. "I don't think it's that bad. If you wanted I could wrap it up and make a sling for you. You'll want to take it easy for a few days."

"That'd be great," said Alex, gratefully.

Ben carefully wrapped Alex's shoulder, wincing in empathy every time Alex grimaced. James passed him a t-shirt and Alex pulled it on, smiling his thanks.

Ben smiled. "You know, you two are actually kind of sweet."

Alex scowled and Wolf glowered.

"We are _not_ sweet," said Alex, firmly.

Ben smirked. "Do what you will to me: you can't hide from the truth forever."

***

_**A/N: So, what did you think? Review and tell me!**_


	19. Chapter 18

_**A/N: So here's the next chapter. I got a few questions about the whole underage thing... technically the age limit is 16 (it only dropped from 18 for homosexual acts in 2000) but there is a clause that says if the other participant is over 18 and in a position of responsibility, so wolf/alex is dubious... Fox could be right or he could be over reacting or misinformed. So yeah, sorry about that and thanks to the people who pointed it out.**_

_**Onto the chapter...**_

_**Warnings: Some violence, swearing, and MI6 playing all their old tricks.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, despite my best effort.**_

***

Bear turned to Snake. They had been on stakeout in Bear's local for two days now, with Snake sleeping in Bear's spare room to make things easier. Learning of Greg's – _Alex's _– amnesia had been a shock for both of them and they were relieved to hear he had regained his memory, though Snake had warned Bear that he might be slightly unbalanced, mentally, as he would still be assimilating the new memories.

Snake kicked him under the table and jerked his head towards the door, where Greg – _Alex_ – had just come in. Now that Bear knew what Gr- Alex was, he could see the signs: the way his eyes automatically swept around the room; his graceful, efficient way of moving and the self assured attitude of one who knew they could handle themselves in a fight.

He still couldn't believe that MI6 had used a _child_, though.

"Holy shit," murmured Snake. "What happened to him?"

Bear frowned, looking at the bruises adorning Greg's face.

"Looks like someone beat the shit out of him," he said, surprised at the anger he felt.

"Wait until the end of the shift," said Snake. "A few hours won't make a difference."

Bear nodded and settled down to wait.

***

The hair on Alex's neck prickled and he knew it was the soldiers without looking. They had been looking at him all evening and he didn't need his spy instincts to know they were planning something.

Somehow he wasn't surprised that they left when he did.

He stopped a few metres down the road and they approached, slowly.

"What do you want?" he asked, suspiciously. He wasn't prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt so soon after he had been found by MI6.

"They want you back, Alex," said Bear, carefully. They had agreed the direct approach was best.

"No," said Alex, immediately on edge by their use of his real name. "I'm not going back. Not yet, at least."

They sighed. "I'm sorry, Cub," said Snake. "But we have our orders."

Bear reached out to grab his wrist, but Alex easily broke his hold and took off down the street at a run.

Snake swore and they gave chase.

***

Wolf started as Alex burst through the door and Fox, who had stayed there to 'catch up', stood up.

"I've got to go," said Alex. "Thanks for letting me stay here last night, but I really have to go."

"Why? What's happening?"

"I- Look, I've just got to go," said Alex, grabbing his stuff.

He started towards the door, then paused and began to go towards the window. Wolf blanched: they were on the third story, what did the kid plan on doing?

"You are _not_ climbing out of the window," he said, firmly, grabbing the blonde's wrist.

"I don't have time for this!" exclaimed Alex, scrubbing his free hand nervously through his hair. "They could be here any second."

"Who could be here?" asked Wolf. "Is this your landlord?"

Alex gave him a disgusted look. "No, I'd never lead someone like that to your house."

"So who?" asked Wolf, confused.

"Us," said a quiet voice behind him and Wolf turned around.

"Bear? Snake?" he asked in confusion. "What's going on?"

Both of them looked uncomfortable under Wolf's scrutiny. Uncomfortable and somehow guilty.

"MI6 sent them to bring me back."

Wolf frowned. "Why don't you just go with them? They probably just want to talk to you."

"I'd rather deal with my landlord than MI6," said Alex quietly. "At least against him I can fight back."

"I'll go with you," said Fox, finally coming over from the sofa.

"You think it'll make a difference?" asked Alex. "If you protest they'll fire you."

"Then I'll go," said Wolf firmly.

"No!" said Alex, firmly. "If they find out..."

"It's just another hold on you," completed Ben, sadly. Bear and Snake looked confused, but no one elaborated.

"We can't just ignore our orders," said Bear, though he sounded guilty.

Alex sighed. "I guess you can't," he admitted.

"We'll all go," said Snake, decisively. "We'll call Eagle and go as his unit."

***

They had a slight problem in the reception when the SAS were refused entry, but Alex solved it.

"Well, then," he said, coldly, "I guess we'll just wait here until they come to us."

Ten minutes later, Mrs Jones came down, spoke to the receptionist briefly then led all six of them to a furious Blunt.

He dealt with the extra guests by ignoring them.

"Rider," he began, curtly. "We need to discuss your situation. Obviously, you have no primary caregiver and no permanent address as we sold your house in Chelsea when you were declared dead. You have missed your GCSE's and you have no qualifications to help you to find gainful employment in the future."

Alex stared back, blank faced. He knew his life was bleak; he didn't need Blunt to point it out.

"As you're a ward of the Royal and General," there was an uneasy stir behind him as K-Unit exchanged glances. They hadn't known that. Blunt waited for them to settle and started over. "As you are a ward of the Royal and General, I feel it is my responsibility to see that you have a job and a place to live."

"There are plenty of rooms within the bank that you could use," broke in Mrs Jones. "And all the facilities would be available to you-"

"He can live with me," interrupted Ben, his face grim at hearing what they had planned.

For a moment, Blunt looked taken aback. "Thank you, Agent Daniels, for being so... helpful... but I feel that it isn't in Alex's best interests to stay with someone who is, after all, only five years older than himself."

"I hardly think it is in his _best_ _interests_ to live in the Royal and General, do you?" hissed Ben.

Mrs Jones looked at him for a moment.

"We will take your offer into consideration," she said and Blunt shot her an angry look before continuing.

"As for employment, we would like to offer you a job as an official agent," he said as if nothing had happened.

Despite knowing it was coming, Alex had no idea how to respond. He didn't want to work for them, not after all they had done to him and to his family.

"I have a job," he said, finally, testing the waters cautiously.

"Ah yes," said Blunt.

Somehow it didn't surprise Alex that he already knew about it. Bear and Snake had probably told them without thinking about it.

"You are a waiter and bartender at a pub, correct?"

Alex nodded, cautiously.

"Well, as you had no legal identity when they hired you, they have obviously been ignoring several important employment laws – including age limits. I am afraid that they will have to be shut down," said Blunt.

"Blackmail again," hissed Alex, angrily.

"No, Alex. This is just a fact. They _have _broken the law."

Blunt paused, eyeing Alex over the top if his clasped hands.

"Of course, the offer of staying here – or indeed with Agent Daniels or another member of the SAS or MI6 – would only remain if you agree to work for us. Otherwise it would be too much of a security risk. I believe St Elizabeth's still has room for you."

Alex swallowed to try and gain some moisture in his mouth and throat.

"And if I work for you... will you leave Bella alone?"

Blunt and Jones exchanged an unreadable glance.

Eventually, Blunt spoke. "If you help us, we'll help you."

***

_**A/N: **_

"_**Tis hard to say if greater want of skill  
Appear in writing or in judging ill;  
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence  
To tire our patience than mislead our sense"**_

_**Basically, review, and consider carefully. Be nice, and be honest. Don't lie and don't not review, because that is worst of all.**_

_**(Ok, so it's actually saying it's worse to be bad at criticism than being bad at writing, but shhh. I just like Alexander Pope. This is taken from his Essay on Criticism.)**_


	20. Chapter 19

_**Ok, so yeah, I didn't update yesterday. Sorry. I just ran out of time. But I'm updating now, so it's all good, right?**_

_**Oh, and for those of you who have forgotten, Bella is Alex's boss at the pub. You wouldn't believe how many reviews I got asking about that!**_

_**Now, onto the story!**_

_**WARNINGS: a little bit of violence, a little bit of slash and some swearing. Apart from that, nothing really.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: As usual, none of this belongs to me.**_

_*******_

They went back to Ben's place. It was larger than Wolf's, though whether that was because MI6 paid better than the SAS or whether Wolf had simply never bothered to move seeing as how he was away so often, Alex didn't know.

"I've never felt so useless," said Snake after a moment of silence.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Eagle, plaintively. "At Brecon Beacons... we all thought you were a joke, that your dad had sent you there. But he's dead. You were forced to be there and all we did was make it harder for you."

"I know," said Ben, miserably. "I had no idea they were so... ruthless."

"You _knew_ they were blackmailing him?" asked Wolf, anger obvious on his face.

"There wasn't anything he could do about it," defended Alex. "Not without losing his job."

"We should have all threatened to quit if they continued to use you," said Wolf.

"And you would all have lost your jobs and I would be virtually a prisoner in the bank with _no one_ on my side. I'd be worse off than I am now and you five would be unemployed and most likely blacklisted."

All of them fell silent.

"Eagle, would you be able to go over to mine and pick up Cub's stuff?" asked Wolf eventually, chucking the soldier his house keys.

"Sure, where is it?" he asked.

"It's all in a box on the sofa," said Alex.

"Snake, Bear," said Fox. "Will you come with me to MI6 and see if we can get some of Alex's stuff out of storage?"

"Will Blunt allow that?" asked Bear, dubiously. "He seemed pretty intent on keeping Alex in the bank."

"Talk to Mrs Jones," said Alex, carelessly. "She's always had a soft spot for me. I think it's because of her own children."

"You're willing to take advantage of that?" asked Ben, flinching. "It's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Alex shrugged. "They taught me that morals are optional. I'm simply applying what they taught me to the situations they put me in."

Ben sighed. "They trained you to be a weapon, Alex. Are you going to apply that as well?"

Alex didn't answer.

***

"Mrs Jones," greeted Ben. "Thank you for agreeing to see us again."

"Agent Daniels... Bear, Snake. What can I do for you?"

"We were hoping we could get some of Alex's stuff from storage," he admitted, quietly. "I know the official decision still has to be made, but..."

"But what, Ben?" asked Mrs Jones, gently.

"I feel bad for him," admitted Ben, softly. "He's living out of a cardboard box, for Christ's sake. I just thought that if we got some of his old stuff it might help him fit back into his old life."

She sighed. "Here's the key," she said, handing it over. "Furniture is at the back, the more personal items are in boxes at the front. I assume you know where it is?"

Ben nodded and took the key.

"Oh, and Agent Daniels?" said Mrs Jones. "Remind me to sign you up for a refresher course on subtle manipulation."

Ben winced.

***

The room wasn't huge, with very little furniture actually in it. He guessed most of the furniture had gone with the house. He quickly pulled out the box in which he had found the photo album, remembering that the rest of the contents had been framed photos. The book had been put back in it at some point.

A box with a games console and several games and DVDs was quickly added to the pile, along with two more tightly packed with clothes. Another with clothes and one with a laptop and what appeared to be Alex's personal affects. He recognised a couple of Alex's gadgets and smiled. He hadn't known the kid had kept them.

"How many do you think we'll get in the car?" he asked Bear. They had come in Snake's car for precisely that purpose.

"Not sure," said Bear. "But they're bulky, so we can only feasibly carry two at a time. Why don't we take these six down and see how much room we have left?"

"Sounds like a plan."

***

They were alone. Eagle had gone to Wolf's, Bear, Snake and Fox to MI6.

James looked at him, then stood up and came to sit next to him. "I'm sorry," said the soldier. "I had no idea it was so bad."

"How could you?" asked Alex, leaning his head on James' shoulder as an arm was wrapped around him.

Wolf leaned down and kissed him. And again with more passion. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily.

"I shouldn't be doing this," said Wolf. "You're too young. You're a member of my team."

Alex looked at him. "Nothing's changed you know. I'm still the same person I was a week ago."

Wolf smiled. "That's true I guess," he said, moving in for another kiss.

Neither of them heard the door open. The first they knew of the intruder was the barrel of the gun pressed against Alex's head.

"Alex," said a cold voice. "Did you forget? You belong to me."

As soon as the voice sounded, Alex tensed in bone deep terror.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man holding a gun to his head.

"Gregorovich," he said, in confusion. "I thought you were dead."

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "Call me Yassen," he said. "You used to. It appears you really did forget. Well, that does not matter. You will come with me."

"No," said Alex, calmly, or as calmly as he could with a gun to his head.

"I should kill your friend here for touching what is mine," commented Yassen idly. "But I am willing to be merciful if you come quietly."

Alex wavered and made a move to stand, but Wolf laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"He's not going anywhere with you," he snarled.

Yassen ignored him. "Come on, Alex. You don't like it when I'm angry."

Alex froze, his eyes widening as the memories washed over him.

"No..." he whispered, his eyes wide. Yassen hurting him, Yassen comforting him, Yassen fucking him... and him giving way without a fight again and again and again. Him becoming Yassen's pet.

He barely felt it as he was dragged to his feet. He didn't notice the tears falling freely from his eyes or the way his body was shuddering with terror.

When he saw Wolf fall to the ground unconscious, he struggled, but being so recently injured, his attempts were pitiful. The last thing he saw before he fell into blackness was Yassen's possessive, angry gaze.

He wasn't sure he ever wanted to wake up.

***

_**A/N: So yeah, Yassen is back. Happy about that? Or sad? Apparently quoting Alexander Pope doesn't really help to up reviews, so I'm going to try offering virtual cookies! Review! **_

_**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters – I am replying, I swear, I just seem to be low on time at the moment.**_


	21. Chapter 20

_**A/N: I'm sorry this is late. My grandfather went into hospital on Monday afternoon and they didn't know what was wrong with him until yesterday so I'm sure you'll forgive the fact that I wasn't really in the mood to update. Well, it's pneumonia but he seems to be getting better, or he did when I went to see him yesterday.**_

_**Sorry, you probably really don't care. On to the story.**_

_**WARNINGS: Minor violence, some semi-sexual scenes, language.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: If I was Anthony Horowitz, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, would I?**_

***

Ben struggled to balance the two boxes he was holding while trying to open the door. It wasn't easy. In the end he set them down on the floor before trying again.

He opened it and picked up the boxes before backing through the doorway. What he saw when he turned around made him stop dead.

Wolf was unconscious in a heap on the floor and Alex was nowhere to be seen.

"Shit," he swore, dropping the boxes and hastening to Wolf's side. A couple of sharp slaps to either cheek brought him around.

"Alex," gasped Wolf, jerking upright. "Where is he?"

"Gone," said Ben succinctly before demanding, "What happened?"

"Yassen Gregorovich," said Wolf closing his eyes in despair. "He came and took him. At first Alex seemed confused, but I think he had another flashback... he was terrified."

Snake and Bear came in behind him, each putting their boxes on the ground and walking over to Wolf, who was just standing up.

"Gregorovich is dead," said Ben, flatly.

"That's what Alex thought, until he remembered whatever it was that made him freeze up."

"So how do we get him back?" asked Snake.

"I don't know," said Ben, quietly. "I just don't know."

***

Alex couldn't stop tears of humiliation from trickling down his face as Yassen efficiently stripped him, cutting his t-shirt off to avoid the necessity of releasing the teen's wrists from their wire bindings. He tried to draw up his knees to cover himself, but Yassen shoved them back down roughly and delivered a brutal slap of retribution to Alex's already bruised face.

"Why now? How did you find me?" he asked, as Yassen stepped away from him.

"I had people watching the Royal and General. I knew you would return there sooner or later."

"What do you want with me?" he asked, hating his voice for shaking.

Yassen laughed. "Not information, if that is what you're thinking. I gave up on that a long time ago."

"Then why?"

"No one escapes from me," said Yassen, calmly. "You belong to me and only me and you are not allowed to escape."

Alex shivered. He knew that Yassen had worked for several psychopaths but he had never considered the possibility that Yassen himself was mentally unstable until now. Even... even last time he had been captive, Yassen had seemed in control and rational. Perhaps losing Alex – finally failing at something – had pushed him over the edge.

Or perhaps Alex had been too unstable to notice the insanity in others.

***

"We should go talk to MI6," said Ben, looking around at his former team mates. They weren't in a good way. Wolf, especially, was on the edge of despair and he wished there was some way he could snap the man out of it. Having a soldier in such a black mood on a mission was dangerous for everyone involved.

"You really think they would help?" asked Eagle, disgustedly. "They didn't exactly seem bothered that he had been beaten up."

"Getting beaten up is one thing," disagreed Bear, "getting captured by an international assassin is another."

"They aren't going to risk losing their best agent so soon after they find him again," said Ben. "And whether we like it or not, they're our only hope of finding Alex."

***

There's only so long you can lie completely naked in front of a stranger before you get over your feelings of shame and vulnerability. Alex had got over his quite quickly, having far more pressing concerns to focus on, such as escaping.

He had shifted up the bed to give his arms as much slack as he dared, the movement severely hampered by his fear of attracting the attention of the man working on the far side of the room. For someone whose job was basically firing a gun, Yassen seemed to have an awful lot of paperwork, but Alex wasn't complaining. Every second Yassen spent focussing on that meant one second less that he could spend focussing on Alex.

So far, all his twisting and squirming had managed to achieve was to make his wrists slick with blood from where the wire had embedded itself in his flesh. Still, he didn't give up, fearing that once he did he would slip all too easily back into the habit of obeying Yassen without question.

That scared him more than anything.

***

Ben stood in front of Mrs Jones for the second time in a matter of hours. This time she looked rather more concerned.

"I know why you are here, Agent Daniels," she said. "We have a man in the cells below who has been watching our head quarters for four and a half months, according to the information he has given. He claims to have been instructed to watch for a blond haired, brown eyed teenager entering or leaving the building. He has asked for protection now that his task is done, but has refused to give us the name of his employer."

"Yassen Gregorovich," he said quietly, pushing down the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm him as he realised just how hopeless this mission was.

Mrs Jones paled slightly. "I see," she said. "Are you completely sure?"

Ben nodded.

"The man might have an address," he suggested.

"He is refusing to talk," said Mrs Jones quietly.

"Then make him," said Ben, his voice hard with anger.

She only hesitated for a moment.

"We will."

***

Daniel Feldt was scared. For four, nearly five, months he and his brother, Jack, had been watching this building, looking out for a teenager. They had never thought he would come, but the money was good and the work was easy. They had never thought much about why the teen was wanted until they had seen him and even then they had only hesitated for a second before Jack went to the address they had been given.

It was when he didn't come back that Dan panicked.

He had known instinctively that he was dead, that their employer had killed him, probably in an attempt at tying up loose ends.

Which would mean that someone was coming for him, too.

It had been hope that had made him walk into the Royal and General, and even now, sitting in a cell below what had turned out to be MI6, all he could feel was relief.

The door opened and a man walked in.

"Mr Feldt," said the man. He had the kind of face you forgot even while you were looking at it. "My name is John Crawley. I understand you are being less than cooperative."

Dan winced slightly. The problem was that he was fairly sure that if he talked, his former employer would find out and try even harder to kill him.

"Perhaps I should make your situation clear," said Crawley. "You have been working for a highly dangerous assassin who is wanted in almost every country in the world. Simply by association, you could be investigated and arrested. You could also be arrested for aiding and abetting the kidnapping, abuse and possibly even murder of a sixteen year old."

Dan paled, thinking back to the serious eyed teenager who he had spotted slipping out of the building. He may not be honest, but he kept it as a matter of pride that he had never hurt someone simply for the sake of causing pain. The thought of someone doing that to a _child_...

"And yet this isn't your biggest problem. The main problem you face is the man who hired you. There is no doubt he is trying to kill you – more so for coming to us. We will be forced to keep you in protective custody until he is caught or dead. We have no leads and too many other obligations to spend time searching for him. You will, unfortunately be detained here for the foreseeable future."

Crawley stopped, letting the true meaning of his words to sink in. However he portrayed it, it was basically a future in prison. Feldt was just a petty criminal; if tried by a court of law he would receive two, three years at most.

"If..." began Feldt, "If I helped you... would you be able to arrest him sooner?"

"Can you help us?" said Crawley.

"I-" he paused. "No," he said, finally.

"My mistake," said Crawley, standing up. "I hope you are comfortable here. You won't be leaving for a long time."

"Wait!" cried Feldt.

"Yes, Mr Feldt?"

"I don't know who he was, I swear," said Feldt, "But we were given an address. If I tell you, will you let me out of here?"

"We will have no need to keep you in protective custody if he is in gaol," said Crawley.

Feldt sighed in relief and rattled of the address.

Crawley pulled a radio from his belt. "Did you get that, Daniels?"

"_Yes. We're leaving now."_

Feldt thought back to the teenager and was surprised to find he actually felt bad about it. He sighed and looked up at Crawley.

"Good luck," he said.

***

_**A/N: So what did you think? The chapter might have been a little light on Alex/Yassen, I guess, but I needed to explain some stuff. Hope you enjoyed it anyway, and please review and tell me your opinion on the chapter.**_


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: So yeah, this should have been posted over a week ago. Oops. Sorry guys. But thanks to everyone who wished my grandfather well – h came out of hospital on Thursday, so it obviously did some good, right? :D

So yeah, the next chapter. This is also the last chapter of Part One.

Warnings: Non-consensual sex, violence, some mental instability.

DISCLAIMER: As usual, not mine.

***

Alex tensed as Yassen turned towards him. Piercing blue eyes swept over his skin, lingering on his bloody wrists.

"You won't escape, Alex," said the assassin. He sounded almost amused.

Alex didn't say anything. He wouldn't give Yassen the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

Yassen yanked him back down the bed and Alex stifled a gasp as the wire dug even further into his wrists. The assassin smiled slightly.

_Yassen didn't like it when he cried_.

Alex tensed and tried to throw off the terror that had gripped him at the thought. He didn't care what Yassen liked or disliked. He just wanted to get out of here.

He forced himself to lie still as Yassen studied him, kept his breathing steady, even as Yassen spread his legs. He knew what was going to happen and he could get through it. He had before.

His resolve didn't last long.

The animalistic scream was ripped from him as Yassen quickly thrust in to the hilt, barely greased and with no preparation. It hurt so much, burnt in a way he hadn't expected. It was tearing him apart.

His resolve shattered and his scream gave way to whimpers as he ran out of air.

"_Nonono pleasedon't pleasedon't stopplease please..."_

Yassen was panting heavily above him.

"_Please stop..."_

The assassin was frowning slightly, completely ignoring Alex, whose monologue didn't stop except to give way to whimpers, or screams on a particularly brutal thrust.

The teen might as well have been gagged for all the difference it was making. Yassen didn't even seem to notice that Alex was protesting.

The assassin closed his eyes, his forehead beading with sweat.

In ecstasy, his mouth formed words that made Alex shudder and the tears to flow even more freely down his cheeks.

"_Alex..."_

***

They moved in well co-ordinated silence, guns prepped and ready cradled in tense arms. They wouldn't let this bastard get away. Not after what he had done to Cub.

Wolf paused in front of the door number they had been given and glanced at Fox, raising three fingers then two. Three men attacking and two keeping watch. Fox nodded and Eagle moved up to join them. Wolf started a silent countdown on his hand. When the last digit fell, he lunged forward and kicked down the door.

"Freeze! SAS!"

There was no reaction. Nothing moved apart from the dust thrown up by the door hitting the floor.

The room was empty.

A quick search of the apartment confirmed the fact. There was no one here.

"Shit," cursed Ben, his sentiments echoed by the expression on Wolf's face.

"What do we do now?" asked Eagle, as Snake and Bear slipped into the apartment.

Fox sighed and pulled a mobile out of his pocket. He switched it on and dialled a number.

Mrs Jones answered.

"Agent Daniels?" she said questioningly.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Alex wasn't here. The place is empty."

"I thought it might be," she sighed. "We ran the address through our databases and the person registered to be leasing it also owns a house in Kensington."

She stated an address, not too far from where they were now.

"We'll go there now."

***

Alex went limp as Yassen pulled out and moved away. The muscles in his arse were cramping from the assault and he couldn't even think about it. His thoughts kept skittering away from what had happened.

The taste of defeat was bitter in his mouth and he knew he was slipping back into his previous mindset. He'd never felt so helpless.

What hurt most was the fact that he had given up. He hadn't tried to fight even to the little extent he could with his arms trapped. He had even submitted to Yassen's brutal mockery of kisses.

He stared blankly at the ceiling and surrendered to the numbness. He was pathetic. Useless.

Over and over again he flayed himself with the words, the pain vanishing into the numbness as he accepted them as truth.

He deserved this for giving up. He was worthless.

***

They knew they were in the right place. They could hear the screams as soon as they entered the living room, echoing faintly through the house from somewhere above them. Eagle and Snake did a quick search of the downstairs before rejoining the others as they made their way cautiously to the floor above.

The screams cut off and they shared a worried look. They hoped it meant that Gregorovich had stopped doing whatever it was to Cub. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

They methodically searched the rooms, until there was just one door left.

The four SAS prepped and aimed their guns as Fox, his body flattened against the wall, pushed open the door.

The scene inside the room made Fox blanch. Alex was tied, naked, to a bed in the corner, blood staining the sheets around his hands and his face streaked with tears. Another man was just standing from his seat, gun already in hand.

Wolf didn't hesitate. Barely waiting to aim, he shot.

The man let out a cry of pain as the bullet took him in the knee, his leg buckling underneath him, but still he raised the gun. There was no doubt in any of their minds that he wouldn't miss and all of them dived to the floor.

A bullet embedded itself in the wall above Wolf's head.

Another hit Eagle's shoulder before Snake managed to raise his gun and shoot Gregorovich in the hand, sending the gun flying.

But that wasn't the end of it.

On his knees with one hand cradled against his chest, Yassen pulled open a draw to reveal a tray of silver throwing knives. Almost before K-Unit had registered them, three were in the air. His aim was off due to the loss of his main hand, but one hit Snake in the shoulder and another took Bear in the stomach.

Wolf didn't waste any more time. He raised his gun and shot. This time he didn't miss.

The bullet took Yassen in the head.

For a moment, they stayed where they were, staring at the remnants of a man on the floor in front of them, a lot less intimidating in death than in life, but a whimper from the bed broke the spell and Wolf and Fox, the only two uninjured, scrambled towards Alex while Snake began to assess his teammates' wounds.

"Alex?" said Wolf, softly, reaching out a hand to stroke the boy's shoulders comfortingly.

"Don't touch me," spat Alex, cringing away from the touch. "Just don't... don't touch me." His voice faded away into a whimper.

"It's alright, Alex," said Fox, calmly. "We're not going to hurt you. I just need to get the wire off your wrists. I will have to touch you, but I promise I won't hurt you, ok?"

Alex hesitated for a second then nodded. Still, he flinched when Fox cut the wire and slowly unwound it.

Immediately after the wire fell away, he scrambled away from them, pressing his back into the wall and breathing heavily.

Silently, Wolf fetched the blonde's trousers from where they had been abandoned and handed them to him.

Alex pulled them on gratefully, though he still avoided eye contact with them.

After a moment, Snake came over. He had wadded up his t-shirt and pressed it against the wound in his shoulder. Seeing Alex's fearful face, he quickly slipped his jacket back on.

"Are we done here?" he asked. "We really need to get to the hospital."

Ben sighed. "Wolf will drive you. I'll bring Alex as soon as I can."

Snake nodded and shepherded his teammates towards the door.

Wolf stayed momentarily, looking at Alex and Ben. Ben gave him a sad smile, his heart breaking at the look of hopelessness on his team leader's face.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll look after him."

Wolf hesitated, then nodded and followed Snake.

Ben made a quick call to inform Mrs Jones of the situation, then turned back to Alex. He looked empty almost, as if he was trying to run from what had happened. Ben sighed.

They might have him back, but there was still a long way to go.

_**End of Part One**_

***

_**A/N: So Review and tell me what you think. The second part has a different plot from the first half, but picks up several loose ends from this part, so yeah, not a seperat story. Any loose ends you think I've forgotten about, feel free to tell me! I don't want to miss anything!**_

_**So Part two probably won't be up for a week or two, I'm afraid, I need to just run over it and check it and ask for opinions. I'm not entirely convinced by it, so just bare with me, ok?**_

_**So yeah, review, so I don't forget to update, yeah? Love you all!**_


	23. Author's Note

_**A/N: Just to let you all know, because I keep having to message people who haven't realised, Part 2 has been posted. It's a separate story called Shadow of a Doubt. :D Enjoy.**_


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